


Promises in Purple Ink

by Leela



Series: glam_100_drabbles [5]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: glam_100, First Time, M/M, Serial Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2017-11-15 19:12:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 19,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another place, time, and universe, Tommy doesn't take the cubicle rat job. He decides that anything's better than giving up on his dream of earning his living playing guitar, although busking isn't quite what he has in mind.</p><p>A card left by a stranger might just be the break he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. By Request

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a bit of an experiment. It's a serial, told in drabble-sets that are based on glam_100 prompts. 
> 
> The prompt for each week is in the chapter notes.
> 
> The gorgeous banner with Adam, Tommy, and my lovely Leo is by moodwriter, who is all kinds of wonderful.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy's out busking when a stranger drops a card along with some cash in his collection jar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #053: Change. 
> 
> Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread and to those who helped me brainstorm, even if you didn't know that that was what you were doing.

Leo's sick again, and Tommy just can't afford to go another day without bringing in some cash. So he sets up in their assigned spot alone. It feels strange and uncomfortable to be out in front. He'd much rather sit behind Leo, where nobody notices anything but the music he plays.

He's got Leo's rainbow painted pot set up out front and he's seeded it with some small bills and change. A few people have drifted by, mostly tourists, looking at him curiously, but so far no one's stopped.

Rolling his shoulders, he picks up his guitar and starts playing.

.o0O0o.

Sometimes, through the music, he hears the rattle of coins hitting ceramic. Not as often as when he's accompanying Leo's juggling, but enough to give him hope that he can feed both of them and still have something leftover for that month's rent. He refuses to regret turning down the call center job.

He pauses to take a sip from the much-refilled water bottle next to his foot. He's got a few people watching: a group of teenagers, and a couple around his age with their kid. 

"Got a request?" Tommy asks, because sometimes that gets people to pony up.

.o0O0o.

The teenagers yell out some songs that he can't do on an acoustic, and a few that make him shudder. Then a guy steps out of the shade at Tommy's left. He's wearing dark sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled down low to shadow his face. His friend reaches out, muttering something Tommy doesn't catch, and the guy shakes him off.

"20th Century Boy," the guy says. He dangles a few bills, at least one of them a twenty, over the pot and then drops them in. 

Tommy grins and starts to play. "Dude with the cash wins every time."

.o0O0o.

Time passes quickly after that. Song follows song, and by the time everyone's packing up around him and the tourists are heading back to their hotels to get ready for dinner, Tommy's more than ready to be done.

He moves the jar in closer, but doesn't empty it. His guitar goes into its case first, nestled carefully inside so that it can survive just about anything, even the drive from Venice to Burbank in Tommy's old car.

Then he picks the bills out of the jar. He's straightening them out so they'll fold into his wallet when he finds it.

.o0O0o.

It's a card for a tattoo and piercing place in Venice with _See over_ scrawled on the front. When Tommy turns it over, there's purple writing on the plain white back.

 _Call this guy_ , it says with a phone number next to it, and then _Come audition for me tomorrow._

Tommy's heart starts thudding in his chest. His hands are shaking so much that he drops money all over the pavement and almost knocks over the pot. 

He blinks and reads the card again. This time, he notices the initials in the corner: _AML_.

"Fuck," he says, and then, "Yeah!"


	2. A is for Apple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy pulls the card out of his back pocket. He runs a finger over the raised letters on the front, reads the words inked on the back. His heart speeds up, and a smile curves his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #054: Ink. Many thanks to Minxie for the preread.

"Hey." Leo curls around on the couch when Tommy walks through the door. "Everything okay?"

"You're supposed to be in bed, you know." Once his guitar's put away, Tommy kicks off his Chucks and drops his keys and wallet on the kitchen counter next to the jar. After a pause, he slides the card and its promise in purple ink into his back pocket.

Leo flips him off with casual grace. "There aren't enough cracks in the bedroom walls and ceiling to distract me for a whole day. Even daytime soaps and reruns of bad comedies are better than that."

.o0O0o.

"We haven't, like, hocked all the DVDs." Tommy sits on the couch and ruffles his hand through Leo's spiky red hair. "And you're warm."

"Oh fuck off. I couldn't stand the mother I had. I don't need another one." Leo shoves at Tommy, then groans. "Fuck that was stupid." 

"Yup." 

"Asshole."

"Yup."

Tommy can't help it; he totally cracks up at the look on Leo's face. 

"God, you're such a bitch. Remind me why I put up with you again?"

"Because even a big dyke like you can't resist my flat ass and sweet face?"

Leo shakes her head. "Idiot."

.o0O0o.

"Seriously," Tommy says, pressing his hand against Leo's forehead, "you okay?"

"I'm okay, _mom_." 

"Now who's the bitch?"

"Yeah, all right, that was low." Leo sighs and then says, "I haven't tossed my cookies for a few hours, but I think it'll be years before my gut forgives me for the past couple of days."

"You should go to the clinic."

"With what? They don't take IOUs."

"Made decent money today." Tommy sucks on his lower lip, plays with the rip in his jeans. Shit's feeling real, and he suddenly hasn't a fucking clue how to talk about the audition.

.o0O0o.

After a few seconds, Leo pushes herself upright with a sharp intake of air. "And?"

"And some dude left a card for me."

"A card?" 

He nods slowly. "Yeah."

"Hey, I'm a juggler not a mind-reader," Leo says, slapping Tommy lightly on the shoulder. "Talk to me."

Tommy pulls the card out of his back pocket. He runs a finger over the raised letters on the front, reads the words inked on the back. His heart speeds up, and a smile curves his lips.

"There was this guy," he says. "Dumped some big bills in the jar and, like, this."

.o0O0o.

"Jesus," Leo says, not taking her eyes off the card. "This looks like the real thing. Any idea who AML is?"

"Dude looked kinda familiar. Like I should know him, but fuck if I do." Tommy's fingers twitch as he resists the urge to snatch the card back. "Had on sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled down low." 

"A... M... L..." Leo scrubs the back of her neck. "It's right at the tip of my tongue, you know?"

"Yeah."

"A is for—"

When Leo doesn't finish, Tommy says, "Apple."

"Dork." Leo gives him the card back. "Call him. Find out."


	3. Call Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy makes a phone call...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** AU  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #055: Dream. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

"Call him." Leo picks Tommy's phone up off the coffee table and tosses it at him. 

Tommy flips it open carefully. It's a cheap-ass burner, and the hinges are starting to crack, but he can't afford a new phone. Heart beating fast, he stares at the card in his other hand. His future, his dream, the hope is almost paralyzing. 

He looks up at Leo, bites his lip. "But what about you?"

She laughs, rough and harsh. "I'm a big girl," she says, "in more ways than one. I'll manage just fine."

When Tommy hesitates again, Leo says, "Call him."

.o0O0o.

The number goes to voice mail.

"Shit, shit, shit," Tommy says during the recorded message. His stomach twists, and he nearly hangs up more than once. 

After it beeps, he forces himself to start talking. "Hi, this is Tommy Ratliff. Umm... I'm, like, the dude that umm... well, he signed the card AML, so like I guess you know who that is. It was at Venice Beach. I was... anyway, he said to call, that he wants me to audition for him."

He just gets his number in before he's cut off. He disconnects the call and mutters, "Well, fuck."

.o0O0o.

Tommy spends the next couple of hours wandering around the apartment, clutching his phone and checking that the volume's turned up. Eventually, Leo talks him back to the couch and moves over so that he can lie down with her.

"He'll call back," she says, almost convincing because she's so very matter-of-fact about it, as she pulls the blanket up over them both. 

"'S'not the way my world works," Tommy mumbles into her shoulder. "Dude looked like the real thing, you know? Real things aren't ever interested in me. Just assholes who fuck people over on their way to nowhere."

.o0O0o.

Holding his phone so tightly that the case digs into his palm and fingers, Tommy drifts between waking and sleeping accompanied by Leo's steady breathing.

The stairs are fucking endless. His guitar feels like it's made of lead. He climbs up and up, focusing on his feet, not wanting to look up or down. Just thinking about it makes his head spin. 

Tommy stops, and the world sways around him. Purple clouds bleed rainbows as he sits down, pulls out his guitar. The case flies away. 

He plays, and the strings turn into a set of scales that ring harshly.


	4. Call and Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy gets a phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> b>Author's notes: Written for glam_100, prompt #056: Communication Breakdown. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

_Ringing. Phone._

The sudden connection sends Tommy stumbling out of his dream. He fumbles for his phone, desperate to keep it from going to voice mail. He almost sends the phone flying as he yanks it free from the blanket.

"H'lo." He blinks and wets his lips with his tongue before adding, "This is Tommy," in an attempt to sound vaguely professional.

"Tommy Ratliff?" The man's voice oozes so much suspicion that Tommy's heart starts pounding, his stomach twists, and he has to sit up.

Leo mumbles a protest, and he puts his hand over her mouth.

"Yep, that's me."

.o0O0o.

"You left me a message about the audition?"

"Yeah, I got a card from this dude today, telling me to call."

"From AML?"

Hope splinters inside Tommy. He should have fucking known. None of the good shit ever comes his way. He blinks again, swipes a hand over the sudden burning in his eyes. And when the guy doesn't say anything further, he swallows and says, "That's how he signed the card."

The guy exhales loudly. "Damn it."

Words tumble through Tommy's mind, but he can't fucking say a single one of them to this guy. He bites his lip.

.o0O0o.

"Look, kid—"

Tommy's heart plummets into his gut.

"—I'm really sorry—"

His lungs seize, trapping the air inside them.

"—but these auditions are closed."

"Yeah, okay." The words sound sane enough, or at least Tommy hopes they do. He wants to slam down the phone. Or, even better, scream and yell at the guy with every single curse he learned at Catholic school. But he doesn't. 

The guy's in the biz and he has Tommy's name and phone number, and Tommy can't afford to fuck things up with someone who runs auditions that matter. "It's okay. I totally get it."

.o0O0o.

But the guy doesn't fucking take the hint and shut up. "It's not that Adam wouldn't pull something like that, but he'd call me."

_Adam_. The name catches in Tommy's chest and sends everything slamming down into reality. His brain spins through the buttload of singers he knows with that name, but there's no one with those initials. 

"Anyway, I'm really sorry you got caught up in some asshole's idea of a joke," the guy says. "I'd offer to bring you in, but..."

"Yeah, I know," Tommy pushes the words past the lump in his throat, "the auditions are closed."

.o0O0o.

Tommy flips his phone closed and clutches it to his chest. He starts curling into himself and sliding under the blanket. Fuck his fucking shit ass luck anyway.

"I'm sorry, baby." Leo is so gentle with him, holding him, that he wants to kick her. 

"Just fuck it, you know?" 

"I know," she says. "People suck, and not in a good way."

He pokes her. "What the hell do you know about sucking?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Putting on a strange accent, she intones, "My past is littered with strange and mysterious events that would make grown men cry."

.o0O0o.

Leo's goofing around doesn't work its usual magic. It seems to make everything worse, leaving Tommy half-convinced that this is it. That it doesn't matter how good he is. That he'll only ever hook up with bands that are going nowhere fast, be offered occasional session gigs for no-name studios that don't pay for shit.

What the fuck is he supposed to do now? 

Biting his lip, he pushes his forehead into Leo's shoulder, wraps an arm around her, and hugs her hard. His other arm is trapped between them, and his phone digs into the skin over his heart.


	5. Bar Snacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo tries to distract Tommy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #057: [candy cock ring](http://glam-100.livejournal.com/166061.html) (click to see the image).
> 
> Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

"You need to eat," Leo says. "Starving yourself isn't going to solve anything."

His elbow on the table, head resting on the hand clutching his phone, Tommy nods in agreement without looking up. He drags his fork back through the pool of hoisin sauce on his plate, adding a swirl. 

When Leo doesn't react, Tommy flattens his fork and erases his doodle. It didn't look anything like a guitar anyway. "I can always nuke the leftovers if I get the munchies later, you know."

"I know." Leo pulls his plate away. "Come on. Let's get the fuck out of here."

.o0O0o.

"Hey!" Tommy grabs his plate back, feeling possessive, even though that doesn't make any sense at all. Not even to him. "What if I wasn't done yet?"

"Fine. Be a dork. Sit there with your dinner getting cold like a little kid being punished by Mummy and Daddy."

Leo stands up and starts closing up the take-out containers and putting them away in the fridge.

"Not a dork." Tommy sighs. "Just a fucking loser."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. That's enough." Leo yanks the plate back. "Go get your pretty on. We're going out."

"But you're sick." 

"I'm not that sick."

.o0O0o.

The conversation is louder than the music when they get to Angel's. Leo's hand wrapped firmly around his wrist, Tommy follows her across the room. She waves at some friends but doesn't stop to join them. Instead she heads straight for a booth that's still covered with the detritus of the women who abandoned it.

He lets her push him into the booth and slides over without protest. 

When she leaves to get them drinks, he leans to one side, digs into his pocket, and pulls out his phone. He feels stupid, but somehow, having it in his hand helps.

.o0O0o.

"Here."

Without looking up from his phone, Tommy wraps his free hand around the bottle of PBR. "Thanks."

Leo mumbles something and then Tommy hears a cracking noise. He jumps and glares at her. Then his brain kicks in, and he registers what he's seeing, what she's holding and eating, and his jaw drops open.

"What the fuck is that?"

Grinning at him, Leo lifts up the purple neon dildo and grabs another candy from the string that's wrapped around it and bites down. 

When she's finished crunching, she says, "Bar snacks," and waves the dildo at him. "Want one?"

.o0O0o.

"I... no!"

"But it's tasty. All sweet, and crunchy, and shit." Leo licks around the candy cock ring, streaking her tongue a rainbow of colors.

"That is, like, so many kinds of wrong," Tommy says, grinning. 

"Yeah, but you love it." 

Tommy slides over to snuggle under her arm. "And you."

"And my magic dick." Snickering, she rubs the dildo over Tommy's lips. The smell of too-sweet candy and rubbery latex fills his nose, and he makes a face.

"That is so gross," he says, shoving at it with both hands.

His phone touches the dildo and starts to vibrate.


	6. Good Vibrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy's phone vibrates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #058: Scary Monsters and Super Freaks. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

_Fucking thing vibrates._ The thought makes Tommy snicker. Then he wonders if it's actually his phone. 

He jerks his hand away so fast that he almost drops the phone. It vibrates again, and all he can do is stare at it. "Definitely not the dildo," he says, but all he can think is that he doesn't recognize the number.

A third vibration and Leo snatches the phone out of his hand. 

"Don't." He tries to grab the phone back, but she bats his hand away.

Flipping it open without a thought for the cracking hinges, Leo says, "Tommy Ratliff's phone."

.o0O0o.

"Fuck you," Tommy mutters. "It's my phone."

Leo has the fucking nerve to push him away and stand up. "Can I ask who's calling?"

Whatever name she's given has Leo looking shocked and then grinning, and Tommy really fucking wants to know who it is. He makes a _gimme_ gesture, but she just glares at him and mouths _don't_ . 

Tommy sits back. His heart does a stuttering flip thing in his chest that freaks him out a bit. 

Then she says, "Oh, I know he's still interested. Hold on a sec," and Tommy's heart starts beating in triple time.

.o0O0o.

"It's for you. About the audition tomorrow."

Leo looks so damn pleased with herself as she holds out the phone that Tommy's almost tempted to fuck with her. But he can't. Shit's going down again, and he just wants to curl up against her while he finds out how real it is.

His hand shakes as he takes the phone from her. He swallows hard before saying, "Umm... it's Tommy." 

That's really like nowhere near professional enough, but it's all he's got right now. Besides, it's way better than telling the asshole to stop fucking with his hopes and dreams.

.o0O0o.

"Hey Tommy, it's Barry. Glad I was able to reach you." He's almost friendly, and Tommy's hopes come to life.

Tommy shifts over when Leo sits down and lets her move him into a more comfortable position. She rubs a hand up and down his arm. He leans against her and presses his fingers against his ear, trying to hear over the idiot at the next table who's screeching with laughter. 

"Sorry about the noise," Tommy says, because he feels like he needs to fill the sudden silence from the other end. 

"No problem. I'd have gone out drinking too."

.o0O0o.

Lips twitching up at the corners, Tommy brings his knees up and starts picking at the outside seam of his jeans. He feels like he should be saying something, but he hasn't a fucking clue how to get this conversation started.

"I just got off the phone with Adam." 

Tommy sits up, flipping around on the seat so fast that he almost slams his knee into the table. "Okay," he says.

"He remembers you very well," Barry says, "and insisted that I open up the auditions for you."

Hope just about fucking chokes Tommy, but he manages to say, "Cool."

.o0O0o.

A quarter-beat later, Tommy's brain catches up with what's going on and starts spinning in double-time.

"When and where's the audition?" He grabs a napkin off the stack and makes a frantic 'gimme a pen' motion at Leo. "And what's Adam's last name so I can like check out his music?"

"You really don't know who he is?" Barry sounds surprised and, Tommy thinks, pleased. 

"No man. Why would I lie about that?"

"You really need me to answer that question?"

"That famous, huh? Assume that means I can find his music on YouTube then."

Barry just starts to laugh.

.o0O0o.

By the time Barry stops laughing and gets down to serious business, Leo's brought Tommy a pen and paper. He scrawls down information quickly, almost illegibly.

"You played in bands before, right?" Barry sounds dubious.

"Yeah, more than a few."

"Anything I'd have heard of?" 

Tommy makes a face at the phone. "Maybe? But probably not." He shrugs and decides to go for it. "Doesn't mean I'm not any good," he adds. 

"That's what you all say, kid." 

Before Tommy can find a response that isn't _fuck you_ , Barry says, "Auditions are for Adam Lambert. He's looking for a guitarist."

.o0O0o.

A couple of minutes later, Tommy's clicking off his phone and staring at the songs he needs to learn. Overnight!

"Oh fuck me," he mutters. 

"No thanks." Leo nudges him. "But I'm sure you won't have to work too hard to find someone willing to put up with your shit."

"Bitch," Tommy says and sticks his tongue out at her. "If we were at a gay bar, they'd be lining up out the door and you know it."

"And on that note, it's time we got your flat ass home so you can practice and keep me up all night."

.o0O0o.

They're in the car, almost halfway home, with the stereo blasting out Placebo, when Leo asks, "What do you have to learn anyway?"

"Two songs by this guy, Adam Lambert, plus something of my own choice. I figure that has to be—"

"Adam Lambert?" Leo interrupts him. "That's seriously heading towards the big time."

Tommy gives her a curious look. "You've heard of him?"

"American Idol? Out and proud? Any of this ringing a bell?" 

"That dude?" Tommy blinks and considers. He's gonna need makeup and interesting clothes and, hopefully, Chantala to do his hair. "Music though," he says aloud.

.o0O0o.

"Queen or Bowie," Leo answers, "given what Adam's talked about in interviews."

"Adam?" Tommy picks at his flaking nail polish. "You're a fan?"

"What part of queer didn't you understand? Even if I didn't like his music, I would've voted for him on Idol."

"Idol." Tommy wrinkles his nose. 

"Adam's good, okay? Just listen to him when we get home, and you'll understand."

"Bowie," Tommy decides, not answering her. "But which song?"

"Scary Monsters and Super Freaks," Leo suggests, "to match your ink."

"Creeps," Tommy corrects her automatically.

"Whatever," Leo says. "Just play from your heart, and you'll kill it."


	7. Order's Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy needs something to help him stay awake after practicing all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #059: Hold On. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

Tommy stands at the bedroom door, watching Leo sleep. His hands are curled at his sides, blunt nails digging into his palms, fingers aching from hours of playing. He really shouldn't check her temperature again. Leo totally hadn't appreciated it last time.

Then again, she shouldn't have taken him out. He shouldn't have let her. 

"Stop that," Leo says. "I'm a big enough girl to make my own decisions."

"Yeah, I know." Tommy shrugs. 

Giving him a narrow-eyed look, Leo pushes herself upright and leans back against the pillows. "Get your guitar. I wanna hear you play one more time."

.o0O0o.

The last chord of Scary Monsters is fading away when Tommy yawns so widely that his jaw cracks.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Sleep is for pussies," Tommy replies, like he always does.

Leo smirks and licks her lips. "Mmm.... pussies."

"You—" Tommy laughs until he's caught by yet another painfully wide yawn. "Fuck," he says, checking the clock. "I don't have time to crash now." His heart speeds up as his mind starts racing through the list of shit he still has to do before the audition.

"Idiot." Leo shoves his shoulder, derailing his thoughts. "Coffee first, panic later."

.o0O0o.

A couple of hours later, Tommy is waiting for his latte at a Starbucks close to where the auditions are being held. Despite Chantala showing up late, as usual, he's there way too early even to pretend that he needs extra time to set up.

Besides, no way he wants to yawn his ass off at that audition. No fucking way.

A whisper catches his attention, and he ducks his head, looking away from the chicks who've been eying him the whole time. Yeah, so he's all dressed up and shit. That's still no reason to stare at his ass.

.o0O0o.

Three drinks for the barista's friends later, Tommy's order still fucking isn't up and he's getting the jitters before he's got his latte. He glances at his watch again. At least forty-five minutes before he can show up at the audition without looking like an over-eager dork.

He sighs, wishing that he had an iPhone like everyone else in this damn coffee shop. At least he would have something to look at while he waited. 

"Oh my god," the girl murmurs again. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

She sounds closer, far too close, and Tommy has to look up.

.o0O0o.

The woman is young and cute, with dark hair and the kind of curves Tommy usually can't resist, but he barely notices her. All of his attention is on the guy who'd just walked in.

After checking him out on the internet, Tommy recognizes Adam Lambert immediately. He's got a couple of people with him and an iPhone pressed against his ear.

Feeling caught out and awkward, Tommy runs a hand over his long bangs.

That's when Adam gives him a look that makes something inside Tommy flip. 

"Hold on," Adam tells his phone, smiling at Tommy, "he's right here."


	8. Coffee Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy gets his coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #060: Diva. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

Tommy stuffs one hand in a pocket and runs the other over his hair. A hundred cool and not-so-cool responses to Adam's comment run through his mind, but all of them disappear when Adam walks toward him.

"Hey," Tommy says, smoothing his long bangs back out of his eyes. The simple happiness in Adam's smile is dragging Tommy's lips up at the corners. 

"Oh wow, he knows Adam Lambert," the girl whispers.

A strange feeling curls through Tommy's gut as he steps away from her and closer to Adam.

"Hey," Adam says, then his smile dims. "We've got a problem."

.o0O0o.

"Yeah, okay." Tommy bites his lip. He hates fucking rollercoasters, and this audition is sure as shit feeling like one. Hopefully Chantala hasn't told too many people yet. He doesn't want to look like an idiot again.

It's like Adam reads his mind though. "I still want you to play for me," he says, before his phone rings again. 

"Latte, extra shots, barely enough milk to color," the barista announces. 

It takes a second for Tommy to realize that his order's up. He reaches for it without taking his eyes off Adam, who's listening intently to whoever called and frowning.

.o0O0o.

Adam flaps his hand at Tommy in a total _come here_ motion and heads for the door. "I'm bringing him with," Adam says into the phone, and Tommy hurries to catch up with him. He's so not going to fuck this one up if he can help it.

The barista mutters, "Well shit," and the women who'd been moving toward Adam back away, looking disappointed

"I'll grab coffee for everyone," one of the guys with Adam says, surprising the hell out of Tommy. Not that he didn't think the dude could speak, but he'd sort of figured they were bodyguards.

.o0O0o.

"Pipe's still leaking," Adam announces, as he thumbs off his phone, "and the idiot's still wailing like a fucking diva about being splashed with a few drops of water."

"He was damn good," the other guy says. "The best so far."

Adam makes an impatient gesture with his hand. "He could be Brian fucking May for all I care. If he can't roll with a bit of water, I don't want him."

He reaches for Tommy's coffee, and Tommy, to his total bemusement, just hands it over. Like he never ever does. He doesn't even share his coffee with Leo.

.o0O0o.

After taking a long drink, Adam stares down at the cup and makes a face. "Needs more milk."

"Yeah, well, get your own next time," Tommy says, without thinking, grabbing his coffee back and cradling it to his chest. 

Startled, Adam looks at him and laughs. "Oh my god, that was your coffee?"

"And I let you drink it. You should, like, totally appreciate that fact." Tommy grins at him and then raises his cup and takes a long deliberate swallow. He licks his lips after, chasing one last drop of coffee, and finds himself looking into Adam's eyes.

.o0O0o.

The moment is broken when the first dude comes slamming out of the Starbucks and shoves a venti-sized cup into Adam's hand. "Do not ask me to go back in there," he says. "I swear, some of those fans think hanging around with you is contagious or something. As if I'm going to introduce them." He snorts. "Even Bruno's fans aren't that nuts."

"Awww, Brian, you love it," Adam says. "Taking pictures with fans, signing for them. I've seen you."

"Yeah, yeah." Brian makes a face at Adam then turns to Tommy, giving him a once-over. "So this is the guy?"


	9. Picture Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy makes an impression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #061: Are you gonna... Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

"This is the guy," Adam says, then smiles. "He gave me coffee." 

"That's it then, he's in," Brian rolls his eyes. "Seriously, this is why we don't let you run the auditions."

 _Fucking perfect_ , Tommy thinks. He takes another drink of coffee, which makes sure he can't say something and fuck things up. 

He's in the middle of swallowing when Brian turns to him and says, "Adam claims you're better than anyone we've heard so far."

Tommy chokes on his coffee, coughs and splutters, and has to blink away the tears from his eyes when he can finally breathe again.

.o0O0o.

"Fuck," Tommy rasps out. "Way to make a good impression."

"See," Adam says. 

Then, to Tommy's surprise, Brian and Adam exchange glances and start laughing. The other dude, whose name Tommy still doesn't know, cracks a smile. And, seriously, Tommy needs to know what the fuck that in-joke's all about. 

"He still has to audition." Brian looks like he's about to say more, but Adam's phone rings.

"Hey, Barry, what do you have for me?" Adam nods and turns away slightly, so Tommy can't see his face. 

While Adam's talking, Brian asks, "Don't suppose you brought an amp with you?"

.o0O0o.

Tommy blinks, then says, "Yeah." After one too many auditions for shitty bands with shittier equipment, he didn't think twice before he tossed it in the trunk of his car this morning.

"Cool," Brian says, but he's frowning as if that doesn't quite make him happy.

Tommy shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first audition I've been at where, like, the amp blew out. Never know what the fuck's gonna happen."

Instead of giving him shit though, Brian grins at him. "Boy scout."

"Hell no." Tommy grins back. "They kicked my ass out before my mom got around to buying the uniform."

.o0O0o.

"Assholes."

Adam growls the word into his phone, and everyone shuts up. He looks up and waves them off, as if it's no big deal, but Tommy's still feeling that word, that growl somewhere down deep inside him.

"I've got one more audition," Adam says, "and next week is too late. I have shows coming up." He pauses for a moment, clearly listening. "Fine. Whatever. Just get my money back, and however much it takes to replace that fucking amp and whatever else was damaged."

"My band shouldn't have to pay for a damn thing, Barry. Make sure of it."

.o0O0o.

There's silence when Adam thumbs off his phone, and that's when Tommy hears it: the murmur of whispering voices, the click of a camera.

"Hi," a girl says, moving towards Adam. "Can I get your autograph?"

"Sure," Adam says, finding an easy smile for her that Tommy would've thought impossible a few seconds earlier. 

Then, as if that's permission for everyone, Adam's surrounded. The third guy keeps an eye on things, occasionally taking pictures. Brian's got his own group, and Tommy's feeling weird and out of place. He grips his cup, goes to take a drink, but it's already empty.

.o0O0o.

"Are you gonna be his new guitar player?"

Tommy stares at the woman. She's at least as old as his mom. Totally not the kind of person he'd have expected to be chasing a pop star for autographs, if he'd ever thought about it.

"Dunno," he says, because that's the truth and, even if it wasn't, he so wouldn't presume to announce it anyway. 

"Would you mind?" She waves her phone. "Just in case, because if you are and I got the first picture..." 

There's a meaning Tommy's not getting, but he says yes anyway. 

Why the fuck not, right?


	10. Coffee and Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy gets a phone call on his way to the new audition space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #062: night and day. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

"Me next." A girl all but shoves the woman out of the way and pushes a camera into a friend's hands. "Like this," she says, as she hangs her arms around Tommy's neck. "He totally has to hire you. You're, like, so his type and you'd be adorable on stage." And then she kisses Tommy's cheek and bounces off to join the crowd around Adam. 

Tommy can't do anything but stare after her and scrub at his cheek. "What the fuck?" 

"Call it the Adam Lambert effect," Brian says. "And be ready for even more cray if you join up."

.o0O0o.

"Cray?"

"Crazier than fuck?" Brian laughs. "It's one of the things that comes with playing for Adam. Gotta be experienced to be understood."

"You trying to, like, talk me out of this gig?" Tommy lowers his voice, not wanting to be caught by the video camera that a fan's wielding like a pro. 

"No gig's perfect, but Adam? He makes it worthwhile."

Tommy glances at Adam, who's leaning over to the other guy and nodding. Then, as if Adam's given them an invisible signal, the crowd backs off. 

Adam beckons them over and says, "We've got a new audition space."

.o0O0o.

The new space, of course, is miles away from where they are, and there's no fucking way Tommy's gonna leave his car behind. He can't afford to replace the passenger side window again. So he's playing follow-the-leader down side streets he didn't know existed.

He's just raced through a not-quite-red light, because Adam couldn't stop in time, when his phone rings.

"Yeah?"

"Tommy, darling!" Leo says, putting on a fake Hollywood accent. "Can I say I knew you when?"

"What?"

"You're famous, baby."

"Leo? What the hell are you smoking, and why didn't you wait for me to get home?"

.o0O0o.

"Just watching my twitter feed explode over pics of a guy who might be Adam's new guitarist."

"Aw hell." Tommy would've closed his eyes if he hadn't needed them to drive. 

"Then again, there's a blurry pic of Adam and this blond dude sharing coffee, and some people are saying he's Adam's boyfriend."

"Fuck no." Tommy glances over his shoulder and switches lanes, flipping off the guy who honks at him. "And seriously? There was no one out there."

"Seriously," Leo says. "And I'm not correcting them, even though I know you'd tell me if you got a new guy."

.o0O0o.

"As if I'd be able to keep it from you if I did." Tommy takes a corner too fast, laying down rubber that his tires can't really afford to lose.

"Not without me fucking you up but good." 

Tommy sticks out his tongue, even though he knows she can't see it. "Promises, promises."

Leo laughs. Tommy grins for a moment, but it fades when he realizes what she said. 

"There are pictures of me? All over the internet?"

"You were with Adam Lambert. Of course there are pictures of you all over the internet. What did you think would happen?"

.o0O0o.

"Fuck if I know." Tommy swallows hard. He hadn't thought about anything except getting a paying gig and a chance to prove he's as fucking good as he told his folks he was when they kicked him out.

"It's okay," Leo says. "No one has your name, and I'm sure as shit not giving it out." 

"It's just—" Spying a cop car as he turns left, Tommy pauses to pull the phone away from his ear and out of sight. When it's clear they aren't interested in him, he picks it back up again. Leo's obviously been talking the whole time.

.o0O0o.

"Anyway," she says, "that's enough of that. How'd the audition go? Did you get the gig? And since I trust your judgment, what's Adam really like?"

Tommy hits the brakes, breathing a sigh of relief when he doesn't hit Adam's car. "On my way there. Don't know. And he's cool."

"Cool?" Leo says, the amusement clear in her voice. "You like him. You really like him." 

"Fuck off." 

"Love you too, Tommy." 

"Maybe a bit," he admits, "but it's not like I know him or anything."

"Dude, you gave him your coffee."

"He took it."

"And you let him."

.o0O0o.

There isn't much Tommy can say to that, but he tries anyway. "I was up all night. Totally wasn't in my right mind. Besides, I didn't want to piss the guy off before the audition."

"Even you don't believe that." Leo makes the noise that lets him know she's pressing in on her temples then, all humor gone from her voice, she says, "Just don't leave me behind, okay? When you're rich and famous and everything's as different as night and day."

"I won't," Tommy says.

"Yeah, okay."

"I fucking well won't."

"I know, okay. It's just— I'd miss you."

.o0O0o.

"I'd miss you too, but that's not the fucking point. I'm not Tara. I'm not going anywhere, whether I get the gig or not. You're fucking stuck with me. Night and day."

Leo's laugh sounds snotty even through the hiss and crackle of Tommy's shitty phone. "I'll manage somehow." 

He's still trying to figure out what to say when he has to slow down to make a right, and they're being waved through a set of gates and into a parking lot.

"Gotta go," Tommy says, flipping his phone shut on her goodbye as he pulls into an empty spot.


	11. Amped Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy gets to play guitar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #063: try this. Many thanks to eeyore9990 for the beta and title idea.

Getting into the rehearsal room and setting his stuff up is the easy part. Tommy even lets Brian carry his amp on the way in, which Brian, at least, seems to appreciate is like a major fucking deal. It's a not-quite-shitty tube amp that he picked up used, but it's got a couple of decent effects, and it's the only one he's got.

But that doesn't take long, and Tommy hasn't a clue what the fuck he's supposed to do next. Following Brian around like a fucking puppy, and joining him and Adam, isn't the impression he wants to give.

.o0O0o.

So Tommy adjusts his guitar strap, pulls his lucky pick out of his pocket, and takes a look around.

It's the kind of professional rehearsal space Tommy's heard about but never been in before. The room's big and pretty much empty aside from some stacking chairs and an old soundboard pushed up against one wall. Another wall is covered with floor to ceiling mirrors. 

Tommy smoothes his long bangs back and out of his eyes. Then he ducks his head and looks away. This really isn't the time or place to strike a stupid ass pose that wouldn't impress anyone.

.o0O0o.

Not having a better idea, Tommy sits on the floor, crosses his legs, and starts to retune his guitar. It's fine. In fact, he knows it's more than fine, but it gives him something better to do than stare around like a fucking idiot.

He glances over at Brian and Adam, but they're still whispering to each other by the door. The other guy, whose name is apparently Ken, stayed outside for a smoke. 

Reaching over, Tommy turns his amp down so low that he can barely hear it, and starts playing the blues riff he's been trying to learn.

.o0O0o.

"Hey," Adam says.

Tommy clamps a hand on the strings to quiet them. "Hey." 

"Sorry about this." Adam makes a vague gesture that takes in the empty room with one hand. "We're usually way more organized." 

"No problem," Tommy says. "It's not like I need to be somewhere. Just let me know when you need me, okay?"

The smile that brings out in Adam is like sunshine coming out from behind a cloud, and Tommy can't help but smile back. 

"Band should be here soon," Adam says, and as if those are some fucking famous last words, his phone rings.

.o0O0o.

Tommy's really starting to fucking hate phones and Adam's fucking poppy ringtone. That attitude doesn't improve when Adam says, "Fuck," and then asks, "Are you guys all right?"

Figuring that it's way more polite than listening in on Adam's phone call or falling asleep, Tommy goes back to playing. He totally fucks the chords up, though, when Adam says, "Motherfucker," all low and harsh and ends the call.

"I don't have time for this," Adam says, dragging a hand through his hair. "Brian, get Ken's ass in here. We're gonna have to try this without the rest of the band."

.o0O0o.

"What's going on?" Ken asks as he walks through the door. "Brian says you want to hold the audition without the others. Or Brian's keys."

"We don't have much choice." Adam sighs with frustration. "Isaac and Ashley won't be here any time soon. Some asshole t-boned the car in front of Ashley. She stopped in time but the guy behind her didn't. Isaac says she's okay, though."

"She better fucking be okay," Brian says.

They keep talking, and Tommy tries not to listen or to worry about how this audition seems to be getting more fucked up by the minute.

.o0O0o.

After a few minutes, Brian leaves Adam and Ken and comes over to stand in front of Tommy. "You're up for this, right?"

Leaning back onto one hand, Tommy looks up at him. "Whatever you need, dude. I'm good just hanging here." And it's not really a lie, no matter that he'd much fucking rather things weren't so fucked up.

As if he was reading Tommy's mind, Brian says, "Things get crazy around Adam, but it's not usually this fucked up."

There's shit all Tommy can say to that, so he just shrugs and lets his fingers play the strings.

.o0O0o.

Tommy's just fucking around, sliding from song to song, from blues to rock to shit he's making up as he goes along, when Adam's voice joins in. Tommy looks over to see Adam sitting near him, with his back against the wall. He's just doing vocal riffs, but it's pretty fucking amazing.

At some point, things switch around. Adam takes the lead and starts singing one of the songs Tommy spent all night learning. 

As if he knows what he's doing, Tommy catches the next chord and starts playing, slipping his guitar underneath Adam's voice, taking his cues from Adam.

.o0O0o.

A gesture from Adam has Brian turning up the volume on Tommy's amp. They make it all the way through the first song, and Adam just fucking moves into the next one without any pause or warning. Tommy doesn't quite fumble the first note, but it's a damn close call.

During the chorus of the second song, Brian sits down next to Adam and starts singing background, adding harmony to the melody.

There's another song after that, then another and another. The ones Tommy doesn't know, he plays whatever feels right, because this kind of jam is the fucking shit.

.o0O0o.

Tommy gets lost in the music, playing without thinking or worrying about anything more than the tap of Adam's fingers, the glide of Adam's voice over the notes. His head moves, and his body rocks back and forth.

He's so fucking in the zone that he nearly misses Adam's cue to stop. But he doesn't. As Adam's hand goes up and up, Tommy lengthens the note and then drops it when Adam's hand falls. 

The sudden absence of music is such a shock that Tommy feels shaky. He clamps his hand around the neck of his guitar and holds on.

.o0O0o.

When the weird sensation passes, Tommy realizes that Adam and Brian haven't said a thing, good or bad, and he's fucked if he knows what that means.

He tilts his head so his bangs fall over his face, and he peeks at them through the dubious protection of his hair. 

They're over on the other side of the room with Ken. Adam's leaning in, clearly intent on whatever Brian's saying.

No matter how hard Tommy strains to hear, he can't catch more than a syllable here and there. Which doesn't say a whole lot for the acoustics in this place.

.o0O0o.

He watches them, trying to keep it on the downlow, because it totally feels too much like those fans watching Adam through the window for Tommy's comfort. But he needs to know.

Besides, Adam's hands are fucking amazing, big and strong, and almost hypnotic. The way they move as he talks, emphasizing points and speaking a language that Tommy wishes he knew how to interpret. 

A quick glance from Adam has Tommy's nerves twitching. He wishes they'd do something, say something. Send him home. Blow him off. Pat him on the shoulder and say they'll get back to him. Whatever.

.o0O0o.

Impatience and a sudden desire to be at home, not waiting for someone else to make a decision about his fucking life, Tommy surges to his feet. After carefully disconnecting the cord from his guitar, he pulls it over his head and goes to put it away.

He's nestling his guitar into its case when he hears the sound of Adam's boots against the hardwood floor. Adam stops just behind Tommy. After giving his guitar one more check, Tommy closes the lid and turns around.

Because he's still kneeling, Tommy has to tip his head back to see Adam's face.

.o0O0o.

Just being in this position, looking up those long legs, leaves Tommy's mouth so dry that he has to lick his lips. And Adam, fuck, just drops a hand on Tommy's shoulder, heavy and _present_.

They stay there like that, with Tommy on his knees and Adam standing in front of him, just fucking staring into each other's eyes for several seconds until Brian clears his throat, loudly.

Adam pulls his hand back. Tommy flinches and shoves himself to his feet. His skin is heating, flushing red, and he curses his fucking pale skin that doesn't hide a goddamn thing.

.o0O0o.

"I'm gonna guess you haven't talked to him," Brian says.

Adam reaches up and tugs on one of his spacers. "I was just going to do that when you interrupted."

"Uh huh." Putting all his weight on one leg, Brian crosses his arms over his chest and taps one foot. 

Tommy's heartbeat speeds up, and he wipes his hands on his jeans, trying to be surreptitious. He's totally freaking out. If he'd wanted this gig before, he's desperate for it now. 

"So, Tommy, I ummm..." is all Adam manages before the door opens and two people walk into the room.


	12. Fridays on the Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy meets Ashley and Isaac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #064: homeless. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

The way that Adam, Brian, and Ken race over to hug the new people, Tommy figures that they're the missing Ashley and Isaac. He feels awkward, not sure if he should stay where he is or go join them. If only he hadn't put his guitar away. He could be playing it right the fuck now, have that feeling of belonging it gives him. Even in places where he totally doesn't belong.

He checks out the nails of his right hand. The black polish is already chipped from playing. Cheap ass shit, he thinks, as he picks at his thumbnail.

.o0O0o.

A laugh draws his attention back to the group by the door. Ashley is dark-haired and gorgeous, and seriously tiny next to Adam, even in killer high heels. Her head's tilted bird-like, and she's hugging Adam tightly and patting his shoulder like she's trying to make him feel better.

But it's the guy, Isaac, who draws Tommy's attention. That dark hair and bright smile make Tommy's gut churn and make him wish he'd checked out pictures of Adam's band. 

Goddamn it. Why the fuck can't he catch a break? He's got to be fucking entitled to one by now, right?

.o0O0o.

Tommy's fucked up more than a few things in his life, but Isaac's a reminder of one of the worst. When Tommy blew it so badly with Mike's roommate that he was kicked out of Mike's house, where he'd slept on the couch for free, and straight onto the fucking streets.

Back then, Isaac was just the dude who stopped by Tommy's corner every Friday at about four o'clock, sat down on a weird box drum thing, and kept the beat for an hour or so. Then he handed Tommy a twenty and a bag of burritos and took off.

.o0O0o.

Now Isaac's the dude who could fuck this up, and he's moving fast across the room towards Tommy. With Adam and the others following on his heels.

Ducking his head, letting his bangs fall into his face, Tommy tries to figure out what the fuck he can say. He really wants to say thank you, even though it's more than a year too late. Because he didn't see Isaac again after Leo swept him up off the streets and brought him into her tiny apartment and her wide-open life.

 _You are so fucked_ , he thinks as he waits for Isaac.

.o0O0o.

Isaac walks straight up to Tommy and hugs him tightly. "You made it," Isaac murmurs, too quietly for anyone else to hear, his smile getting even brighter. "You fucking made it."

"Yeah." Taking a deep breath and releasing it, Tommy hugs Isaac back and whispers, "Thanks." 

"You know Tommy?" Adam asks. "You didn't say anything when his name came up in the audition list."

Tommy can feel his heart speed up, the flutter of his pulse in his neck. Stress sends a sharp spike right through his gut. He has to force himself to let Isaac go and to breathe.

.o0O0o.

"Never knew Tommy's last name. Even though we jammed every Friday for a while," Isaac says, with a shrug and another grin. "If you'd shown me a picture, I could've told you he was damn good."

Relief rocks through Tommy with dizzying speed, sending a roar of feedback through his ears that makes it impossible for him to hear Adam's reply. 

"—get my bass," Ashley is saying when Tommy's hearing returns. "Since I'm the only one who hasn't heard him play."

"Let's jam," Brian says.

And Tommy has to sit the fuck down because, somehow, he hasn't fucking blown it.


	13. Under Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy jams with Adam and the band.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #065: close chave. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

Setting up doesn't take long. The techs are still back at the old rehearsal space, dealing with the equipment there, but Adam's band members are clearly old hands at doing for themselves. Ashley brought a bass and a single amp, Brian gets one keyboard, and apologies for not bringing the rest of his set-up, and Isaac has his weird box drum thing.

"So you know Isaac?" Ashley asks.

The question's pretty casual, but Tommy nearly drops her amp on his foot as he's putting it down. "Yeah," he says, hand shaking as he pushes his hair out of his face.

.o0O0o.

"Cool. He's a sweet guy. If he knows you, well... we're more than just a band," Ashley says, "and Isaac's recommendation goes a long way."

Tommy's caught between wanting to smile back and not having a fucking clue what to say to her. Because Isaac doesn't know him, not really, and Tommy wants to keep on dodging that fucking minefield for as long as he can.

Then Ashley reaches out and lays a hand on his arm, and her grin turns impish. "Stop worrying so much."

"Yeah, okay," Tommy says, and takes a step back. "Gonna get my guitar sorted."

.o0O0o.

Walking away from her feels like a cowardly move, but Tommy doesn't want to think about his time on the streets. He's way the fuck over it already.

But hooking up his guitar only takes a few minutes, and testing the strings just proves that it's ready to go. Everyone else is busy. Ashley's tuning her bass. Brian and Isaac are whispering over the keyboard. Adam's talking with Ken.

Feeling out of place, Tommy leans against the wall. He places his right foot flat against the wall, rests his guitar on his thigh, and starts picking at his nail polish.

.o0O0o.

Most of the polish is gone from Tommy's right thumbnail, and he's chewing on the hangnail that’s been annoying the fuck out of him, when Brian hits a note on his keyboard and Adam takes up a position in front of the mic stand.

Tommy pushes away from the wall. His heart speeds up as he twitches his guitar into place and goes to stand in the empty space between Adam and Brian. He knows fucking shit about most of Adam's songs, and this isn't a casual thing like before. This is fucking it.

He can totally fuck this up.

.o0O0o.

"If I Had You," Brian says, cutting across the frantic tumble of Tommy's thoughts.

There's a pause, and Tommy tries and fails to remember the first notes of that song, even though he's just played it. Then Brian plays a note, and then another, and Tommy's fingers are moving over the strings. 

They slide from that to Kickin' In with only a brief break, and Tommy relaxes enough to start moving around. He bounces a little, bangs his head, and smiles at Ashley when she grins at him. 

He even leans up against Adam when he comes close to Tommy.

.o0O0o.

And Adam leans into him. For a moment, they're holding each other up, Tommy's shoulders against Adam's back. Then the moment's over and they're moving apart again.

They get to the chorus and Brian calls out, "Bounce, bounce, bounce." By the third repetition, Tommy's bouncing on his creepers and enjoying the hell out of playing what he'd thought was a run-of-the-mill pop song.

When the last note fades away, Adam asks Tommy, "Ready for the crazy train?"

"Crazy train?" Faced with the amused challenge in Adam's eyes, the only thing Tommy can think to say is, "Why the hell not?"

.o0O0o.

Tommy listens to the first few notes. Cuckoo isn't a song he knows, but he did listen to it a few times last night when he was checking out Adam's music. He liked it. Mostly. It just felt unfinished, like something was missing. Not that Tommy could put a finger on what that something was.

With just his own memory to go with, Tommy just starts playing along with what the others are doing. He tosses some crazy riffs into the mix, trying his best without a pedal. 

Then Adam turns to him, holds up a hand, and says, "Stop."

.o0O0o.

The music crashes to a sudden halt, the last notes echoing around the room. No one argues. They just turn to Adam and wait for him to explain.

"Do that again," Adam says to Tommy.

"This?" Tommy repeats the last riff he played. 

Adam frowns and shakes his head. "It's not quite right."

"If I had pedals..." Tommy trails off and glances at his amp. He twists the knob for one of the effects and plays again. "Better?"

"Maybe. Still not right."

There's a lot of back and forth after that. Discussions between everyone about what could make it better.

.o0O0o.

Tommy plays and replays the riff, adding notes, stretching them out and speeding them up. Brian comes out from behind the keys and starts playing with the effects on Tommy's amp. Ashley adds in a bass line, helping Tommy stay on track.

And still Adam's shaking his head, saying it doesn't quite fit.

The whole thing should be frustrating as fuck, but instead it gets Tommy thinking, wanting to find the sound that works. 

Finally, though, it's Brian who calls a halt. "We need to figure this out another day," he says. "Tommy's right. This can't be solved without pedals."

.o0O0o.

Adam grumbles, but concedes to Brian's request.

"So Tommy," Ashley says into the silence, "which song did you pick to play for your audition that isn't Adam's?"

"Scary Monsters." Tommy plucks the first couple of notes.

"I love Bowie," Adam says. 

"Rock, then." 

Tommy jerks around and stares at Brian. There's something about the flatness in Brian's voice that worries him. Not disapproval or disappointment, but not really good either.

"Let's hear you play it," Adam says.

As if that's a signal, Ashley pulls off her bass, leans it carefully against the amp, and goes to sit next to Isaac.

.o0O0o.

Brian joins Isaac and Ashley. Adam stands behind them with his hands in his pockets, Ken next to him. They're an audience now, or maybe a panel of judges, not just the musicians Tommy's been jamming with.

"No pressure, dude," he mutters as he adjusts his guitar and spends a couple of minutes getting the strings tuned properly and trying to get his nerves back under control. 

Taking a deep breath, Tommy runs a hand over his hair and smoothes his bangs by the side of his face. Then he strokes his pick over the strings and starts to play.

.o0O0o.

By the second verse, Tommy's singing along. Very quietly, because he can't stay on key for shit. During the third, he draws a wail out of his guitar, pulling it higher and higher until he drops back down into the music, bouncing and headbanging. He ends with a spin, raising his guitar high as he picks out a rapid run of notes.

Then he stops and pushes his hair back off his face, breathing heavily. The fact that he hasn't eaten anything all day is making itself known, but he ignores his empty stomach. It's totally not important right now.

.o0O0o.

Isaac and Ashley are smiling, but it's Adam and Brian who matter. Raising his chin, refusing to hide behind his hair, Tommy waits.

Brian's expression is unreadable, his voice flat, when he says, "You're a metal head."

In response, Tommy plays a lick from Crossroad Blues then the first few chords of Hurt, the Johnny Cash version. "Life's too short for only one kind of music, man."

Brian nods and turns to Adam. 

Everything seems to tunnel down to the two of them. Tommy's clutching at his guitar, caught up in Adam's eyes, in the blue grey green of them.

.o0O0o.

After what seems like forever, Adam asks, "So, what are you? A mod or a rocker?"

Without thinking, Tommy replies, "Six of one, half a dozen of the other, really."

Adam's smile is bright and light. Tommy can't help smiling back. His stomach flips over, and a strange giddy feeling rises inside him. 

"Velvet Goldmine is the shit," he says, because he wants Adam to know that he's not faking it. 

"Totally," Adam says. "So, you think you could start playing next week?"

"Yeah." The swirling happiness grows inside Tommy, and he tightens his grip on his guitar. "Fuck, yeah."

.o0O0o.

But then Ken's phone beeps, and he thumbs it on. Adam peers over Ken's shoulder and stares at whatever's on the screen.

"Background check," Ken says, and Tommy's gut tightens around a sharp spike of pain. He should've fucking known; nothing in his life is ever this simple.

"Tommy?" 

He can't look up, can't deal with the disapproval that he's sure is in Adam's eyes. Staring at his fingers, at the strings pulled taut over the frets, he says, "They dismissed the charges, okay? I didn't fucking sell my ass."

Not that he wouldn't have, if Leo hadn't found him.

.o0O0o.

"What are you talking about?" The confusion in Adam's voice seems genuine, and Tommy's head jerks up.

"Nothing," he says. "Just fucking forget I said anything." 

Then Adam's swearing, and the swirling is surrounding Tommy, spinning him around like a fucking tornado, and some asshole is turning off the lights. 

Tommy blinks, looks up into Adam's eyes. He's sprawled across Adam's lap and cradled in Adam's arms. The others are crowded around them. "What the fuck?"

"You fainted." Adam brushes Tommy's hair out of his eyes. 

"I don't... why would I do that?"

Before anyone can answer, Tommy's stomach growls.

.o0O0o.

"I don't suppose you remembered to eat anything today." Isaac shakes his head. "And I'm betting that you've been playing for hours."

A flush heats Adam's cheeks. "He was good, okay? And none of us thought about it." 

"Dinner," Ashley says. "We should go out and celebrate our new guitarist."

They all start talking after that, with a bunch of restaurants that Tommy doesn't know tossed out as suggestions. 

"I'm sorry," Adam offers. 

"Not your fault I didn't eat."

"Sushi? Japanese food?"

Before Tommy can answer, his stomach growls again.

"Katsu-ya," Adam announces, and just like that, the discussion's over.


	14. Dinner is Served

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy goes out to dinner to celebrate getting the job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, Open Week, for which I chose prompt #052: shiver. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

Dinner's full of conversation and laughter, and better food than Tommy's eaten in years. He orders a couple of the cheapest rolls, conscious of the few bills in his wallet, and they're fucking awesome.

He finds it hard to resist Adam, though, when he holds up a piece of sushi for him. Totally impossible, when every mouthful comes with the taste of Adam's skin. 

But it's not until after the last toast to the band finding a new guitarist, as the reality that he got the job finally sinks in, that Tommy realizes how much trouble he's gotten himself into.

.o0O0o.

Afterwards, there are goodbyes, exchanges of phone numbers, and promises that there will be a rehearsal in a couple of days. First Isaac heads off, then Ashley follows a few minutes and a hug later, and then it's just Adam and Tommy, leaning against Tommy's car in the parking lot.

They're in the shadowy darkness, just outside the circle of brightness cast by one of the lights, and hopefully safe from interruption.

Tommy knows he should go home, but he's not ready for this to end yet. It feels like a fucking dream and he doesn't want to wake up.

.o0O0o.

"This thing," Adam says, and Tommy knows exactly what he means even if he doesn't have an answer.

After a few minutes of fidgeting with his rings and his earrings, Adam asks, "Do you have pedals?"

"Huh?" Tommy twitches in surprise at the total change of subject. His head almost spins around like Regan's in _The Exorcist_ as he turns to look at Adam.

"Pedals," Adam repeats. "You'll need them if we're going to figure out the Cuckoo changes."

"Oh, yeah, no." Running a hand up over his hair, Tommy shakes his head. "I'd've, like, brought them if I did."

.o0O0o.

"Okay." Adam draws the word out. He's got a thousand yard stare, and Tommy hasn't a fucking clue what he's thinking.

"You know," Tommy says, because he'd pretty much have to bite his tongue in two to stop himself. "If there's someone else. Like somebody who already has all the shit you need—"

"No," Adam snaps. "I don't give a shit about the pedals. We can rent them or even buy some for you."

"Fuck no." Tommy bites his lip and shakes his head. 

"Rent then," Adam says, "and you can buy them as soon as you have the money."

.o0O0o.

That's about when Tommy realizes he doesn't know how much this gig pays or how long it'll last. Not that that really matters, because he'll have his own money. Fucking finally. 

"Do that again."

Tommy stares at Adam. "What?" 

One of Adam's hands rises slowly to Tommy's mouth. He traces Tommy's lips with a finger, pulls one corner up. "Smile for me."

Tommy does and Adam smiles back, sending a shiver through Tommy, fuck him all to hell. 

"This thing," Adam repeats, leaning forward.

His lips are warm. His kiss is a quick, possessive touch of his mouth to Tommy's.


	15. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy talks to Leo about his day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, Open Week, for which I chose prompt #029: performance anxiety. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

The first thing out of Leo's mouth when Tommy walks through the door is, "What did you do?"

"That's all you've got," Tommy says. "What happened to 'did you get the gig'?

"You got the gig. I never doubted that." Smile fading quickly, Leo gets up from the couch and comes over to give him a hug. 

She's warm and safe, easy in a way that nothing else in Tommy's life is right now. He takes a deep breath and moves into her embrace. Her arms tighten around him, and he clings to her, burying his face in her shoulder.

.o0O0o.

"Oh, Tommy." Leo strokes Tommy's hair. "Kick off those shoes and I'll get us a drink. Then we can talk about whether or not I need to kick Adam Lambert's ass."

He nods, mouth curving up into a smile despite himself at the image of Leo's stomping into the next rehearsal in her Doc Martens to confront Adam for him. It would be fucking awesome, if Adam deserved it.

Kicking off his shoes, he wriggles his toes and checks his socks for holes. None, thank fuck, but he needs to get out of his audition clothes before he starts drinking.

.o0O0o.

"You can't kick Adam's ass," Tommy says, when she hands him a tumbler of Jack and joins him on the couch.

"Well, shit. Spoil all my fun, why don't you?"

"Always." Tommy puts his phone on the coffee table, settles against the cushions and stretches his legs across her lap. He sips his Jack. The burn is so fucking perfect; he takes another, larger sip and moans as it gets him a mouthful closer to ecstasy. 

"There are laws against that noise." Leo sips her whiskey, settles a hand on Tommy's feet. Even through his socks, her hand feels warm.

.o0O0o.

"You only wish you could get that kind of sound out of your girlfriends," Tommy responds, just to get Leo riled up.

But she pats his foot and lets it slide. "Talk to me. I wanna know what the fuck Adam Lambert did that's got you so upset, after he hired you."

Tommy takes another sip, then tosses back the rest of his Jack and holds his glass out for more. When it's full again, and down one mouthful, he says, "He kissed me."

"Well, that fucking bastard. Kissing a boy," Leo says. "I thought he was better than that."

.o0O0o.

"The fuck of it is that I don't know why." Tommy's feeling the Jack now, enough that he can talk without totally freaking the fuck out. He still keeps his eyes on his glass, on the whiskey and melting ice cubes, as he says, "We went out for dinner afterwards, you know, me, Adam and the band."

"Good food?"

Tommy glances at her through his eyelashes, but doesn't take the out she's offering. "Amazing sushi, but that wasn't the problem."

When Leo waits without commenting, Tommy sighs and continues, "Thing is, I haven't a fucking clue why he kissed me."

.o0O0o.

Leo looks like she's thinking of saying and then discarding at least half a dozen responses before she asks, "Was he any good?"

Tommy stares at her. "Was he any... what the fuck, Leo? I'm scared shitless here. I just got the best job of my life, and I don't even know what I've done."

Her grip on his foot becomes painful, giving Tommy something to focus on other than his growing panic. "Breathe," she says. "In and out. Yeah, that's it."

"I just met the dude. Like today. And he's my boss. Goddamn it, Leo, why now? Why him?"

.o0O0o.

It's just about everything Tommy wants, and he got it all on the same day, wrapped up in the same person. And if he fucks it up, like every relationship he's ever had, every band he's ever been in, he'll lose everything.

It's like a recipe for failure, designed specifically for him.

Then Leo asks, "Do you like him?"

It's an innocent word, _like_ , but it slams right through him, swamping him with an image, a memory, of being on his knees in front of Adam Lambert and the need that rose up in him, that still aches in him.

.o0O0o.

"It doesn't matter," Tommy says when he can breathe again. "I took off. Barely gave him enough time to get out of the way before I backed out of the parking spot."

"You almost ran down Adam Lambert? I'd love to have seen that." Leo runs a hand over his foot and curls it loosely around his ankle. "Some days I wish you were a girl. You'd be perfect for me."

Not knowing what to say, Tommy pulls his legs in, hugs them to his chest, one hand still wrapped around his glass, and rests his chin on his knees.

.o0O0o.

"You'd end up hating me if we were together," he finally says. "Just like all my exes."

"No, I wouldn't. And it's not all of them. Carlos still talks to you." 

"He totally doesn't count." 

"Yeah, baby, he does." Reaching out, Leo pats his leg before stealing his glass. She's in the middle of pouring more Jack into it when his phone buzzes. On the second ring, she puts down the bottle and says, "Answer it."

Tommy shakes his head, because it could be Adam, is probably Adam, and he just can't deal.

"Answer it or I will."

"Nope."

.o0O0o.

Leo doesn't argue with him, doesn't give him shit, just reaches over and answers his phone. And Tommy can't help but listen.

"Tommy's phone," she says. Then she's silent for a few seconds. "He's busy right now I could—"

She stops and nods. "He's fine."

Another pause and then, "Yep."

"I could—" she glances over at Tommy. "Are you sure? It's not the best—"

"Okay, I'll shut up about that." This time she smiles, seeming almost approving, and Tommy can't decide whether to strangle her or grab his phone from her, or both.

"No problem," she says, then closes his phone.


	16. Morning After (the Night Before)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy's feeling all the Jack he drank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #066: sight. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

Tommy opens his eyes then immediately squeezes them shut as the bright light stabs into his brain. "Turn the fucking sun off," he whines, curling up into a ball and pulling the covers up over his head. 

"Sadly, even I'm not that powerful. Blinds are closed, and I come bearing gifts. Water and painkillers," Leo says. "Which means you totally love me."

"Not enough to get up."

"I know, but you have to. You've got rehearsal this afternoon."

Tommy blinks and sits up. His head starts throbbing again, and his stomach makes a nasty-ass gurgle. "No. Shit. No, I don't."

.o0O0o.

"Yes, you do." Leo wraps his hand around a glass of water.

Tommy stares down at the water, trying to imagine drinking it. He swallows down the bile that rises at the thought. Leo, however, has no mercy at all.

"Drink," she says, putting her hand under the glass and moving it up towards his mouth. "Then you can take the stuff that'll make you feel better."

He takes a deep breath and drinks half the glass, then downs the rest with the pills Leo gives him. When he's sure he won't puke, he says, "First rehearsal is tomorrow afternoon."

.o0O0o.

"Not any more," Leo says, tossing the covers to the bottom of the bed. "You got a call while you were doing your Sleeping Beauty imitation. Something about a last minute booking for a TV show."

The words _TV show_ feel like they're bouncing off the inside of Tommy's skull. He can't do much more than stare at her. Not even complain about being cold without his comforter. 

"C'mon." Leo offers him a hand. "I've got some coffee—"

"Fuck." Tommy slaps a hand over his mouth and dives for the bathroom. It's almost too far away, but he makes it.

.o0O0o.

Two hours later, squinting in the bright light despite his sunglasses, guitar in one hand, and a bit wobbly on his feet, Tommy pushes open the door to the rehearsal studio. He blinks at the sudden change in light and pushes his sunglasses up on top of his head.

It seems like there are people everywhere. A couple of guys are standing over a soundboard. Techs are rolling wires and setting up equipment.

Adam's standing in the middle of it all, chatting with Brian, looking happy and in charge.

 _It's real,_ Tommy thinks. _It's all fucking real. All of it_.


	17. Rockin' the Real Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy performs with Adam's band for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #067: hearing. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

The next few days fly past as Tommy races between rehearsals, practicing at home, getting fitted for in-ears, renting pedals and amps, and busking with Leo. Even during the few hours he sleeps, he dreams about playing and about fucking it all up. 

He wakes up feeling the weight of his guitar over his shoulder, the pressure of guitar strings and pick against his fingertips. His hands and wrists ache and cramp. The chords still echo in his ears, vibrate through his body.

Best, and worst, of all, he and Adam avoid talking about anything but work the whole time.

.o0O0o.

It's all fucking awesome until he's in the green room, dressed in a t-shirt, black jeans, and a jacket borrowed from Brian.

"Carrot?"

Tommy stares at the orange _thing_ in Adam's hand. His stomach churning, he shakes his head and clamps his mouth shut.

The crunch of Adam biting into the carrot makes Tommy jump. He misses his guitar desperately, making him wonder when it became his security blanket.

"Fuck being nervous." Adam flicks the carrot into the trash. "We're going to kill it."

Then the stage manager's there, calling for their attention, and Tommy follows her to his guitar.

.o0O0o.

"One. Two." Brian sounds off in Tommy's in-ears. On "Three," they start playing. Then Adam joins in, and just like that, Tommy's part of something bigger than himself. It's like they become the music, and it's the most totally fucking awesome high ever.

Tommy's too focused on playing, on making his cues and operating his pedals to bounce around. He never stops watching and listening for Adam and Brian's signals, though. When Adam dances towards him, he turns sideways, getting his guitar out of the way. 

He's drawn towards Adam, and when he leans, Adam is there, waiting for him.

.o0O0o.

Afterwards, as Ellen and Adam chat through the closing music, Tommy's still buzzing so hard he has to bite his lip to hold in a shit-eating grin. He grips his guitar to stop himself from pumping his arm in the air because, dude, he was on TV, and he fucking slayed it.

Fuck his parents and their 'get a real job or get out' attitude. He's fucking made it. On his own. He just hopes someone in his family watched it.

"And this is Tommy," Adam's saying. 

Tommy blinks his eyes open to see Adam and Ellen smiling at him.

.o0O0o.

He's pretty sure he doesn't blink again until they're backstage and changing into street clothes.

"You rocked it." Isaac gives Tommy a one-armed hug.

Hugging him a bit awkwardly because he's not quite sure how he feels about Isaac, Tommy says, "You guys are awesome. No way I could play badly with you—"

He stutters to a halt as Ashley pulls her top off. She's got her back to them, but still.

"Ash," Brian calls out. "You're embarrassing the new guy."

Looking at Tommy over her shoulder, Ashley takes a picture of him with her phone. "He'll get over it."

.o0O0o.

Stuck for a response, Tommy flips her off with both hands.

"Dream on." Ashley blows him a kiss.

"Couldn't be worse than my usual dreams," Tommy mutters.

Whooping with laughter, Brian and Isaac high-five Tommy. 

Tommy's humor fades when he realizes that he has to undress in front of them. The bathroom is tempting, but he's sure that would lead to questions.

After changing his too-tight black pants for jeans, he tosses the jacket to Brian. His t-shirt fails the sniff test, but he can't bring himself to take it off. Fuck it, he decides, and reaches for his hoodie.

.o0O0o.

Adam joins them as they're being escorted out of the studio to the parking lot. Saying goodbye feels strange. After being such a part of them, playing like that, it's like leaving a part of himself behind.

Everyone hugs, a little too tightly, a little too long, as if they all feel the same way. Tommy even gets a kiss on the cheek from Ashley. 

He takes a step back and starts heading for his car, while Adam's talking with Brian. His guitar is in the trunk when Adam catches up to him.

"Hey," Adam says, and then hugs Tommy.

.o0O0o.

After the hug, Adam doesn't really move away. He stays close, slides his hand up, and cups Tommy's cheek. "Your friend said you'd be okay."

"I'm fine." 

"Better than fine," Adam says. "You were great back there. Fans are already talking about it on Twitter."

"About me? Why'd they wanna do that? I'm just the guitar player."

"Better get used to it, because it's only gonna get worse. Pictures, vids, fans, paparazzi, and all the advice about your life and career that you never wanted to hear."

"Seriously?"

"Totally."

"Huh."

"Still interested?"

Tommy's smile is slow and bright. "Hell yeah."

.o0O0o.

For a second, Tommy thinks that Adam's going to kiss him again, but Adam rubs a thumb over Tommy's cheek, drops his hand, and steps back.

"This thing," Adam says.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Tommy sucks on his lower lip because that seems better than licking his lips.

"We need to talk." Adam stares at his hands and starts playing with one of his rings. "I was going to come by your place. Your friend said it would be okay when she answered your phone, but then there was this, and I figured you didn't need the distraction."

.o0O0o.

_Talk!_ Tommy sighs. When someone says that, he never hears anything good. Then again, Adam's right. "Where?"

Adam tugs on his ring so hard that it almost goes bouncing across the parking lot. "My place? Yours?"

"Mine's not in the best neighborhood."

"So I heard." Adam shrugs. "Can't be worse than some places I've lived. My mom says my first apartment gave her grey hair."

"Fucking different now, isn't it?"

"I guess," Adam says, then shrugs. "So, they sent a car to bring me here..."

His heart pounding almost loud enough to deafen him, Tommy asks, "You want a lift?"


	18. Reach Out and Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy drives Adam home after the performance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #068: taste. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

Traffic is crawling along the streets between the studio in Burbank and Adam's place up in the hills. Forcing himself not to white-knuckle the steering wheel, Tommy tries to focus on the traffic and not Adam.

"God damn it. Watch where you're fucking going." He slams on the brakes as an asshole in a pimped-up ride, shitty rap blaring from his overburdened speakers, almost takes off his front bumper.

Adam, thank fuck, doesn't attempt to hit the imaginary passenger-side brakes or clutch the door handle. He just says, "So I'm thinking we should talk when we get to my place."

.o0O0o.

The light changes, and Tommy uses that as an excuse not to respond to Adam. He can't distract his brain though, and it tosses out some truly insane stuff that Adam might want to talk to him about. None of them have shit-all to do with what's really going on though.

"Music?" Adam asks.

Strangling the urge to kiss Adam for changing the subject in his brain, Tommy says, "Got Pantera in the stereo. Rest of the CDs are in the glove box."

Adam flips through a stack of CDs, ending up with _Violator_ , _Ziggy Stardust_ , and _Hoodoo Man Blues_.

.o0O0o.

"Interesting taste you've got. I'm guessing pop's not your thing."

Tommy snorts and flips off a grandma who honks at him as she zooms up the hill on the wrong side of the double-yellow line. He floors the gas, getting a bit more speed out of his car, and says, "Good music's my thing."

"Mine too." Adam slots _Violator_ into the stereo and spins down the volume when "World in my Eyes" blasts out. He sings along. "Let me take you on a trip. Around the world and back."

"Yeah," Tommy murmurs, rapping out the beat on the steering wheel.

.o0O0o.

Gahan and Adam are singing "Flesh and bone by the telephone" when Tommy pulls up to a gated entrance.

It feels almost criminal to interrupt "Personal Jesus" but he turns the music off before opening his window. The last words he hears, "You need to confess," echo through his mind as Adam talks with the guard, and all the way to visitor parking.

Even worse, Tommy's brain kicks into gear when Adam places a hand on Tommy's lower back to usher him into the elevator. Adam's palm is like a brand against Tommy's skin, right through Tommy's t-shirt and hoodie.

.o0O0o.

Adam's living room has floor to ceiling windows. Tommy gives them a sour glance before sitting on the couch with his back against the arm, facing away from the probably spectacular view.

"So," he says when Adam comes out in ripped jeans, a well-worn t-shirt, and bare feet. He licks his lips, which have suddenly become dry, and tastes the remnants of his lip-gloss.

"So," Adam repeats, handing Tommy a glass of wine. He sits opposite Tommy, one leg curled under him and the other foot flat on the floor. 

Taking a sip of his wine, Tommy asks, "This thing?"

.o0O0o.

"I don't... I can't—" Adam sighs, staring down at his glass, tapping a ring against it. It chimes like the crystal Tommy's mom uses on holidays. He stops just when it gets annoying enough for Tommy to contemplate smashing the glass, and looks up.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Adam says, then gulps some of his wine.

Shocked, Tommy blinks at him. "Upset me?" He goes back over everything that's happened between them, coming up blank. "Huh?" 

"I wouldn't have kissed you if I'd known you had a girlfriend."

"Leo?" Tommy inhales his own spit and chokes on it.

.o0O0o.

By the time Tommy stops coughing, he's red-faced and embarrassed as all hell. He drinks the water Adam offers him and then more wine. When Adam sits down, Tommy says, "Leo's a friend, totally not my girlfriend. She's like the best big sister ever."

Saying that feels like a betrayal of his own sister, but that doesn't make it a lie. Tommy doesn't love Lisa any less, but she didn't help him when he needed it. She hasn't tried calling in months.

"Sister." Adam says the word slowly, rolling it around in his mouth as if he's tasting it. "Oh."

.o0O0o.

"Besides, Leo wouldn't be interested in me unless I had an unexpected sex change." Tommy shudders. "And hell to the no on that."

Adam doesn't smile the way Tommy expects. Instead he looks unhappier. He tings his ring against the glass again, just once, then reaches up to play with his earrings. He turns the spacer in his left ear around and around as he talks.

"This thing between us, I don't think I'm imagining it. You have to be feeling it too."

Tommy wants to answer, but his tongue feels like it's stuck to the roof of his mouth.

.o0O0o.

"At least I thought you were, but then you ran." Adam drinks the rest of his wine, puts the glass down on the table, and begins to turn his ring around his finger. "I didn't mean to force you, didn't mean to make you think that you didn't have a choice."

"No," Tommy says, but Adam continues as if he hadn't said anything.

"Just tell me no, and I'll let you go. As long as you still play for me, because that's got nothing to do with anything else. And be my friend, because this thing could easily become that."

.o0O0o.

"No," Tommy repeats, and this time, Adam looks up at him, his eyes wide.

"Okay." Adam nods. "Fine."

Tommy's heart sinks into his stomach, and he drops his glass on the floor so he can move forward enough to lay his hand on top of Adam's. "I'm a fucking idiot, okay? I didn't mean 'no, let me go'. I meant 'no, I don't want you as a friend'."

"But you'll still play for me?"

If there'd been a wall nearby, Tommy would have banged his head against it. Instead he grabs onto Adam's hands to stop him from pulling away.

.o0O0o.

"Stop fucking jumping to conclusions," Tommy says, "and, like, give me a chance to finish."

Adam nods and turns his hands around, threading their fingers together and holding on. Curling his fingers, Tommy does the same thing.

Tommy's heart feels like it's about to burst out of his chest. All he can taste is his own fear. But he swallows it down and forces himself to speak. 

"No, I don't want you to be my friend. I want to give this thing between us a chance. But I'm pretty fucked up." He bites his lip. "You probably shouldn't want me."


	19. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy doesn't run away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #069: smell. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

"You're too fucked up?" Adam stares at Tommy. Just fucking stares at him until Tommy doesn't know whether to hit him or crawl into his arms and press himself against Adam, so he can't see him, can't be seen by him.

Then, when Tommy's convinced himself that Adam's going to get up and walk away, that Adam's realized he's not worth the time or trouble, just like all of Tommy's other boyfriends and girlfriends, Adam opens his arms and Tommy moves into his lap. 

"Everybody's fucked up, baby," Adam murmurs into Tommy's hair. "Every single human being on this planet."

.o0O0o.

Tommy's still holding one of Adam's hands, clutching hard enough to turn his knuckles white, sure that if he relaxes his grip, he'll run away. This shit, the kind that feels too good to be true, never seems to end well for him.

He doesn't want to run away this time though, not from Adam, and that scares him more than anything else. Biting his lip, Tommy wraps an arm around Adam, closes his eyes, and holds on tight.

 _Breathe_ , says the voice in his head that sounds scarily like Leo, _and try not to make an idiot of yourself_.

.o0O0o.

The first breath is quick, sharp, almost painful. Tommy takes another and another. He tries to match them to the rise and fall of Adam's chest. His heart starts to slow down, calmed by the steady thump of Adam's.

Adam's hand runs up Tommy's back and settles at the base of his skull. He gives Tommy's neck a light squeeze.

Tommy breathes deeply, inhales Adam. Faded cologne and wine, with traces of makeup and hair products, scents that walk the line between comforting and terrifying. 

_I'm fucked_ , Tommy thinks, and the voice that's Leo's replies with, _If you're very lucky_.

.o0O0o.

"Never that lucky," Tommy mutters. Then he presses his lips together, because he hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"Making your own luck," Adam says, his lips feeling almost ticklish against Tommy's hair, "is usually much more satisfying than letting someone else make it for you."

Needing to see Adam, Tommy pulls back. There's a split-second of pressure, of the weight of Adam's hand, of decision, before Adam stops resisting the movement. 

The weird thing is that Adam looks as nervous as Tommy feels. As Tommy watches, Adam licks his lips, and Tommy gets an urge to kiss him.

.o0O0o.

Instead, Tommy leans forward and traces the path of Adam's tongue with his own. It feels tentative, even to Tommy, but draws a sigh from Adam.

"You're sure?"

"No," Tommy admits, "but that isn't going to stop me."

Adam's smile is so bright that Tommy can't help licking it, tasting it. Then Adam's hand moves up from Tommy's neck into his hair, and his fingers dig lightly into Tommy's skull as he takes over the kiss. 

The rush that goes through Tommy is as sharp as the nip of Adam's teeth, as hot as Adam's mouth, making him want more.

.o0O0o.

"Whatever you want, baby," Adam says, and Tommy can't help but wonder whether he really is saying these things, or if Adam's some kind of fucking magical mind reader.

Not that Tommy gives a shit, because Adam's laying back and taking Tommy down with him. And he keeps on kissing Tommy, licking into his mouth, dragging his teeth over Tommy's lower lip, as he arranges them on their sides with Tommy against the cushions. 

Like this, Tommy can feel Adam, can feel how much he's wanted by Adam. He curls a leg over Adam's hip and pulls him even closer.

.o0O0o.

Adam's hand, the one that isn't cradling Tommy's head, glides down Tommy's side and settles in the curve of Tommy's ass and thigh. He hikes Tommy's leg higher, brings their dicks together, and rolls his hips.

The first slide of their dicks sends a prickle of heat washing through Tommy. He bucks up against Adam, needing something that he can't put in words and can only hope Adam understands.

Adam stills his hips though, begins kissing and sucking along the edge of Tommy's jaw. 

Tommy tips his head back as much as he can and hisses a "Yes" of encouragement.

.o0O0o.

Pulling back, Adam says, "Look at me."

Tommy growls with frustration but does as he's told. "You're a fucking tease. Anyone ever told you that?"

"More than once."

"Asshole." 

"That too."

Snickering, Tommy gives Adam a quick kiss. The scent, the taste of wine is gone, along with Adam's lip-gloss. 

"I could fall for you," Adam says. "Long and hard and deep."

 _Me too_ echoes in Tommy's mind, but he can't say the words out loud.

"I need you to tell me now if that's not what you want, not where you want to go, because I'm heading there fast."

.o0O0o.

Fear makes Tommy tremble. The kind he hasn't felt in years, not since he walked away from home, into the unknown. The kind he's found on a cliff-edge, facing the dizziness, the chance of failure.

"Tell me," Adam whispers.

 _He's afraid, too_. It's a crazy thought. Fucking insane, really, but Tommy can smell the fear on him.

"Fall with me," Tommy says, forcing the words past the lump in his throat.

At the touch of Adam's soft lips, the thrust of Adam's tongue into his mouth, Tommy holds on tight and opens up to Adam like he's never done before.


	20. Stripping Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy takes off his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #070: touch. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

Tommy freezes, his lips parted on a breath, when Adam's hand slips up the back of his t-shirt. He fucking wasn't prepared for this, and he really should have been. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to relax, but it's way too late.

"Talk to me." Adam presses his lips against Tommy's neck. "Tell me what I did wrong?"

"Nothing. I just... I've done things." Tommy feels Adam tense, like he's bracing himself to say something, so he places his hand over Adam's mouth. "Don't," he says. "Don't you fucking dare say we all have. It's not the fucking same."

.o0O0o.

"Okay."

"Just... like... let me..." 

Tommy can't fucking get the words out, but Adam seems to understand anyway. 

"Whatever you need."

"Can we? Like this?" 

It takes a bit of squirming and a lot of Adam just allowing Tommy to move him around. Eventually though, Tommy has Adam on his back, stretched out full-length on this couch that feels bigger than Tommy's entire bedroom. He curls into Adam's side, bending his head so Adam can't meet his eyes. It's easier this way. He gets to feel Adam, to touch him and be touched, but doesn't have to look at him.

.o0O0o.

"Not going to talk about everything," Tommy says. "Okay?"

"Mmhmm." Adam wraps an arm around Tommy and pulls him closer.

A hundred ways to open the conversation, maybe even more, flitter through Tommy's mind as he focuses on Adam's chest, on the way Adam's t-shirt creases and slides around as Tommy drags his finger over it.

Old pain rises, sour and bitter, from deep inside Tommy. He doesn't want to fuck this up, can't fuck this up. 

He pushes himself up to a sitting position. Adam's hand slides off his shoulder and down his back to rest against his ass.

.o0O0o.

Tommy gets his hoodie off and then hesitates, twisting the hem of his t-shirt around his fingers.

"Nothing's that bad, baby." Adam looks so serious, so caring, that Tommy wants to kiss him. Or call him out. 

"Falling with me, right?"

"Hand in hand."

"Yeah." 

Flexing his fingers, getting a better grip on the hem of his t-shirt, Tommy pulls it up. The neck catches on his nose, and for a second, he has the crazy thought that he should just fucking stay like that: t-shirt covering his face so he doesn't have to look at Adam, see his reaction.

.o0O0o.

Then Tommy feels Adam's finger tracing the spiral of black ink just below his left pec, and he just fucking can't not look. Biting down on his lip hard enough to hurt, for it to overwhelm the goddamn burning in his eyes, Tommy whips his t-shirt off the rest of the way.

Adam's entire focus is on Tommy's chest. His fingertip loops around and around, occasionally pausing on the blood-red plume of smoke that winds through the center of the spiral. 

"There's a scar under this."

"Knife point." Tommy takes a deep breath. "Where it was pushed right into me."

.o0O0o.

For a second, all Tommy can smell is car exhaust and the rot of trash left too long; all he can hear is the sound of a busy street, of rain falling on pavement, of a once-loved voice begging him to do as he's asked.

Then Adam murmurs, "Oh my god," and Tommy's back.

"Marcos didn't hurt me." Tommy has no fucking idea why he's compelled to tell Adam that. "I'm not, like, saying that it didn't hurt, but he wasn't trying to hurt me."

Adam's eyes narrow, and Tommy can see his anger sparking to life. "But he did."

.o0O0o.

"He betrayed me." The difference is crucial to Tommy. The small cut, the scrape of the knife blade against his ribs, were minor things compared to the betrayal they brought with them. "Traded in everything we had, everything we were to each other, for a fucking rock of crack."

"Bitch of it was," Tommy continues when Adam doesn't say anything, "that I would have given him everything I had if he'd just asked. He'd already broken up with me. Even sold off his fucking guitars." 

Sniffing, Tommy crumples his t-shirt in his hand and rubs at his nose with it.

.o0O0o.

Taking the t-shirt off him, Adam tosses it away with a wrinkle of his nose. He cups Tommy's cheek with one hand. "What else happened?"

"There were two cops, polite as fuck, and one told Marcos to drop the knife. He repeated it. Drop the knife. And I fucking begged Marcos to do it. But the stupid fucking asshole leaned forward and kissed me instead. Stabbing me with that fucking knife as he kissed me."

"And they fucking shot him. Didn't wait. Didn't ask. Just fucking shot him dead right in front of me. Fucking assholes. Fucking god damn idiot."

.o0O0o.

Tommy gulps in a breath and drags a shaking hand through his hair. He's so grateful for Adam's silence that he just keeps on talking because it's the only thank you he's got to offer.

"The tattoo seemed like a great idea at the time. The only thing I had left of Marcos was this stupid fucking scar, and I wanted to remember him, what he'd done to me." Tommy laughs, harsh and bitter. "I was nineteen and full of stupid emo shit. So I talked a friend into inking Manson over it. What the fuck did I know, right?"

.o0O0o.

"It's gorgeous work," Adam says, his finger running over the black letters, pausing on the tiny drop of blood between each word. He pauses for a second, tilting his head this way and that, reading the words aloud, "The crack inside your fucking heart is me?"

"From Speed of Pain," Tommy says. "Still like the song though."

Adam raises himself up with one arm, leans forward, and kisses Tommy's chest. Right over the tattoo. His lips are warm, and feel almost like forgiveness.

Curling a hand around the back of Adam's neck, Tommy holds Adam's lips right there and breathes.


	21. Holding On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hand in hand," Tommy says, repeating what Adam said to him earlier. "You and me just holding on for the ride."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #071: flexible. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.
> 
> Please note the change in rating...

Just as Tommy's starting to feel silly, holding Adam to his chest, Adam slides his lips up from Tommy's tat to his nipple. 

"Gorgeous," Adam says, then he rolls Tommy's nipple with his tongue and goosebumps shiver over Tommy's skin. 

"'M not..." 

The light scrape of Adam's teeth over his nipple makes Tommy forget whatever the fuck he was going to say. It couldn't have been important anyway. Not while Adam's licking and sucking like that. And when the fuck did his nipples become so sensitive anyway?

"To me, you are." Adam raises his head and smiles at Tommy. "Gorgeous."

.o0O0o.

Tommy's tempted to set Adam right, because he's totally a sure thing; no way he's not putting out. But something about the look on Adam's face, some kind of vulnerability in the crinkles around his eyes, traps the words in Tommy's throat.

He kisses Adam instead, putting his awkwardness, the feelings that he's always shit at sharing with people, into the press of his mouth against Adam's. And Adam licks into him, thrusts his tongue between Tommy's lips. 

It's everything that their other kisses weren't. Hot and sweet and filled with something that isn't quite, but might someday be, love.

.o0O0o.

Wanting to hold on to that feeling, Tommy deepens the kiss. He loops his arms around Adam, pulls him even closer.

When Adam starts to move them around, Tommy lets him, wishing he were half as bendy as Adam. Still, Adam twists and pushes, until Tommy's half on his back, half on his side, with just enough of Adam's weight on top of him to feel good. 

Adam breaks the kiss, rising up on an elbow enough that he can look down at Tommy. It takes almost everything Tommy has not to chase after Adam's mouth and kiss him again.

.o0O0o.

But enough of the vulnerability is back to make Tommy reach up and try to smooth it away from Adam's eyes, from the space between his eyebrows.

"Be sure." Turning his head, Adam touches his lips to the palm of Tommy's hand. "Please."

"Sure as I can be." Tommy links their hands together and squeezes lightly. "Hand in hand," he says, repeating what Adam said to him earlier. "You and me just holding on for the ride."

Adam frowns.

"The very long ride," Tommy adds before Adam can say anything. 

That works. It brings Adam back from wherever he went.

.o0O0o.

"I could fall so hard, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

Because shit's getting too fucking real for words, Tommy pulls Adam down again, so close that there's no space between their bodies, no hiding the press of his dick into Adam's hip, of Adam's dick into his thigh.

Then they're kissing again, longer and deeper, as if Adam's mouth is touching Tommy's soul, and Tommy tries to do the same, to tell Adam how he feels with lips and tongue and teeth. Because he has no words, only a banked heat that's firing up inside him, making him want more.

.o0O0o.

Tommy shifts down, needing to be closer, needing to feel Adam's dick against his own.

They start rocking against each other. Each slow, rhythmic movement is a slow drag of Tommy's denim-covered dick against Adam's. The material of his briefs is thin and worn from washing, but it feels rough, confining, as it slips and slides. 

"So many layers," Adam murmurs into Tommy's mouth.

"Too fucking many." To emphasize his point, Tommy squeezes Adam's ass, bucks into him. "Want to feel you."

Their kiss turns desperate, bleeding need like a guitar bleeds music, punctuated by the rasp of their breathing.

.o0O0o.

Tommy touches Adam, is caressed by him. He explores Adam's body, pushing his hands up under Adam's t-shirt, down past the waistband of Adam's sweatpants, feeling the aching loss of the places he's not flexible enough to reach.

Next time, he promises himself, because he can't be that patient now. He wants... wants... _fucking wants_.

Like he's reading Tommy's mind, Adam snakes a hand between them, pops the button and opens the zipper of Tommy's jeans. The heat of his palm against Tommy's dick draws an incoherent noise out of Tommy that's supposed to be "fuck" or something like that.

.o0O0o.

"Oh god, baby. I need you... yes? Okay?"

"Yes," Tommy says. "Do it. Don't need to fucking ask."

It's a scramble to shove Tommy's jeans and underwear down and off, to undress Adam, who's not wearing anything underneath those sweatpants. But then Adam's licking his hand and wrapping it around their dicks.

_Holy shit_.

Tommy arches into Adam's touch, thrusts against him.

The not-quite-dry drag of squeezing, tugging, jacking hand against dick against dick is a white-hot scorch of fire through Tommy. He curls a hand around Adam's, around their dicks, and just holds on to Adam with the other.

.o0O0o.

Tommy bites at Adam's lips and sucks on Adam's tongue, breathing the sounds that he usually keeps deep inside into Adam.

"Oh my fuck," Adam says against Tommy's mouth. "So good. So fucking good." 

They rock faster and faster. Precome slicks their hands, eases the slide of their dicks. Feelings surge through Tommy like an incoherent spiral of musical notes.

Skin slides against skin. Tommy curls a leg over Adam's hip, pulling them even closer. Adam's thumb rubs over the head of their dicks. A nail grazes the slit of Tommy's dick. Adam's dick pulses, and orgasm blazes through Tommy.

.o0O0o.

Adam rolls onto his back, and Tommy falls heavily into the curve of Adam's arm. Adam's chest rises and falls, slower and slower, as his breathing returns to normal.

Adam's smile is brilliant, and Tommy can't help but return it. As he does, he's surprised by a wave of happiness and contentment that he can feel all the way from his toes to his eyes. 

Raising himself up on one elbow, Tommy examines Adam's hand, the one that was wrapped around their dicks. The skin is dotted with come, his and Adam's, with no way to tell whose is whose.

.o0O0o.

_Ours_ is a weird word in Tommy's mind, but it's the only one that fits.

He says it aloud, testing how it feels. "Ours." 

Then, returning Adam's intense gaze from under his eyelashes, Tommy pulls Adam's hand to his mouth and runs his tongue over the web between Adam's thumb and forefinger. Their come is bitter and sweet, sour and sharp. 

Adam tugs on their joined hands, draws them to his mouth, and Tommy shifts upwards to follow them. 

They lick together. Tongues touching skin, touching tongues. Kiss again, and laugh. It's ridiculous and perfect.

And it tastes like happiness.


	22. Promises Kept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy plays his first concert with Adam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #072: loyalty. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

Everyone is joking around backstage, getting into stage drag, taking pictures and videos, and tweeting the safer ones. 

The crowd is laughing and cheering, loudly enough for Tommy to hear them even if he can't make out any words except, probably, Adam's name. He takes a deep breath, leans into the mirror, and tries to fix the mess his shaking hand made of his eyeliner.

"Here, let me." Ashley smiles and gestures for him to turn around. "You're just making it worse." 

Her touch is gentle, the slight drag on his eyelids just familiar enough to help him calm down.

.o0O0o.

"You'll be fine," she says. "As soon as you hit the first notes, everything'll fall into place. And the fans just make it that much better. Best high in the entire world."

Tommy would have nodded if she hadn't been doing something with one of her brushes around his left eye. Or maybe if he'd been completely convinced. 

Mostly, what he wishes is for Adam to come in and give him one of those smiles that makes everything right. But Adam's busy being a rock star, meeting and greeting, giving interviews. Shit Tommy's more than happy to leave to him.

.o0O0o.

"If you're gonna hurl, hit the trash can." Brian wrinkles his nose. "Venue staff never cleans that shit up until we leave."

Swallowing down the bile that's burning his throat, Tommy shakes his head and stabs at the iPhone he bought with his first paycheck, sending his first tweet: a backstage pic of the band. 

It's another fucking first in a list that's so damn long he's not sure how many more he can stand without imploding. 

One more, he tells himself, pushing his hand into his pocket and touching a card with writing in purple ink. Just one more.

.o0O0o.

Adam's deep in conversation over by the soundboards when Tommy reaches the wings. For a second, Tommy thinks he'll end up walking past without being seen, and he's not sure how he feels about it.

Still this is work, and Tommy knows it. Nothing's more important than this. It's life and dreams and every-fucking-thing ever, for him and Adam and everyone else back here. It's the sickest of all the fucking shit.

But Adam pauses mid-conversation, raises his head, and just fucking smiles at Tommy. Bright and shiny and full of that thing about Adam that Tommy totally can't resist.

.o0O0o.

The noise levels rise as Tommy makes his way across the darkened stage. He gets a slap on the ass from Ashley, a squeeze of his shoulder from Isaac, and a "You're not going to fuck this up" from Brian that's somewhere between reassurance and threat. The others, dancers and backup singers, just grin at him as they take their places.

Then Brian's counting off, and Tommy picks out the first few notes, and Adam walks onto the upper stage and starts singing. 

It's the closest Tommy's ever come to understanding what his mom meant when she talked about heaven.

.o0O0o.

As they move from song to song, Tommy bounces and headbangs, jumping up onto Brian's mini-stage, playing with Ashley. He stands and just listens to Adam talk.

During If I Had You, Adam moves on Tommy in an unrehearsed slinky prowl that has Tommy half-hard before Adam slides in behind him. 

Adam sings and undulates, rubbing his dick against Tommy's ass. His voice and moves flash up memories of being in bed, on a couch, against a wall. Tommy leans back against Adam, rests his head on Adam's shoulder, as Adam fondles his tuning pegs, turning their sex into music.

.o0O0o.

As if he knows exactly what's going on, Adam spins away just as Tommy's on the verge of fumbling the strings and fucking up so badly that even the audience would notice. He smirks at Tommy, blows him a kiss that has the crowd screaming, and heads off to flirt with the dancers.

Frustration has Tommy wailing an unplanned bluesy riff during the next song that draws a grin out of Brian. Unable to flip Brian off, Tommy repeats it, turning to Brian and lifting his guitar at the end in emphasis.

Brian's grin widens, and someone yells Tommy's name.

.o0O0o.

Startled, Tommy flings his head back to flip his hair off his face and squints through the lights, trying to see who it was. When that doesn't work, he moves closer to the edge of the stage, playing to the crowd.

He's so caught up in looking out over the sea of faces that he almost misses the shift from the song into the band intros. 

As Adam gets closer and closer, Tommy's heart starts pounding. He has no idea what to expect. He practiced his solo, but Adam said he likes to be spontaneous, to speak from his heart.

.o0O0o.

"On lead guitar," Adam yells out over the audience's applause, "I want you to meet Tommy Joe Ratliff."

As Tommy rips out the first chord, Adam sinks to his knees, legs spread apart. Stepping carefully, Tommy straddles him, all but fucking rides him as Adam's hips thrust up with every beat.

Tommy stretches the chord out and out, twists it, flips it back down into the original song. And Adam flicks out his tongue, licks Tommy's fingers, and sucks. Exactly like he did last night.

Shredding the chord, Tommy vibrates the strings against Adam's lips and blows him a kiss.

.o0O0o.

The audience's cheers, the way some of them scream Tommy's name, stay with him through the last song, the brief stumble offstage, and the encore. When the concert's over, he pulls his guitar over his head and just stands there and looks out over the audience.

A teenage girl is waving a handmade sign decorated with his name and hearts. He smiles and waves, and she squeals, "Oh my god, Tommy." Her friends are giggling and bouncing around her. 

Heart clenching, Tommy realizes he can't imagine giving this up. That he doesn't ever want to lose Adam, any of this.

.o0O0o.

Tommy's lost in that thought, in the insane loyalty that now owns his ass, as he walks off the stage.

He gets a whirlwind hug from Adam, along with a "You played the shit out of that guitar" and a kiss brushed so lightly across his cheek that he's not sure whether he imagined it. 

Then, as they're dancing around each other, washing off the performance and changing clothes, Adam sticks his head into the dressing room. 

"Autographs and then the after party," Adam announces. "No excuses. I want you all there."

"Fuck yeah," Brian says. "Rhythm and booze time."

.o0O0o.

The crowds waiting outside blow Tommy's mind. He loses track of Adam almost immediately, as Adam's swarmed by fans and security.

He signs when asked, poses for more pictures than probably exist of his entire life up until that night. His face is starting to ache from making himself smile, when a girl pushes through the crowd.

"Holy shit, you're so amazing." She holds out her arm. "I totally need your autograph." 

"Okay." Tommy looks for something to sign.

"My arm. Right below Adam's signature should be perfect." She winks at him, and he laughs. 

It's such a fucking trip.

.o0O0o.

After autographs, they're directed to a bar in a nearby hotel. Music, laughter, and voices leak through the closed doors into the hallway.

Just before they go in, Isaac catches at Tommy's arm. "Give us a minute," he says to the others. Then he pulls Tommy over to a quiet alcove. 

Worry makes Tommy bite his lip. "Whatever you want, I—"

"Oh no." Isaac shakes his head. "I just want to keep on playing with you." 

Relief rushing through him, Tommy hugs Isaac.

"I won't say anything," Isaac whispers, "but you've gotta tell Adam. Not now, but when you're ready."

.o0O0o.

Tommy turns his head and stares at the restaurant where Adam's waiting for him. "We've already started talking. He knows shit—" Tommy shakes his head. "Shit I haven't told anyone in years."

"Good," Isaac says, letting Tommy go. "Adam's a good guy, but some people take advantage. He needs to be trusted."

"I trust him." The words feel strange in Tommy's mouth, almost alien. "Can't fucking remember the last time that was true, but it is for him."

Isaac smiles, wide and bright, and Tommy hugs him again. They walk over to the party together, knocking shoulders as they go.

.o0O0o.

Inside, there are people at every table, standing at the bar, and dancing in the tiny space in front of the DJ. Tommy turns to say something to Isaac, but he's gone and Tommy's alone in this crowd of too many people, too many strangers.

Heads turn his way, and he takes a step back. He's about to head for his car and home, when an arm snakes around his waist. Panic almost choking him, he brings a foot up, ready to kick back only to almost fall over in an attempt to stop when he hears a familiar voice.

.o0O0o.

"You really don't want to hurt me," Leo says. "I bite."

"Promises, promises." Tommy takes a deep breath, trying to slow the pounding of his heart. He slides an arm around her waist, leans against her. 

"Seriously, though, you were totally amazing up there. Better than I've ever heard you."

"You think?"

"I know. And so do all the fans. Everyone was talking about you afterwards. You've probably got a ton of new followers on Twitter." Leo's lips twist into a smirk. "Of course, none of them know you like I do."

She nudges him until he smiles at her.

.o0O0o.

"You're having fun, right?" Leo snags them a couple of glasses of wine from a passing waiter. "Because if you're not, I can still kick Adam's ass." She arches an eyebrow at him. "Unless you've got better things to do with that very fine ass of his."

Adam's laugh makes them both spin around. "Thanks, I think."

For the first time ever, in Tommy's experience, Leo blushes. She gets herself together after a second or two, pink still lingering on the tips of her ears, and gives Adam her sweetest smile, the one that always makes Tommy nervous. "You're welcome."

.o0O0o.

This time, Adam's laugh sounds absolutely delighted. "You must be Leo," he says, eying the way they have their arms around each other. "Or at least you better be."

"And if I'm not?" 

Tommy moves away from Leo. "Oh, fuck, no," he says. "You are not pulling that shit tonight. I wanna have a few drinks, maybe even more than a few, kick back with my boyfriend and my friends, and enjoy this very fine fucking high, thank you very much."

"Boyfriend?" 

Adam's question is echoed by several women around them, and suddenly, Tommy finds himself the center of attention.

.o0O0o.

Tommy ducks his head, lets his fringe cover his face, hearing nothing but an old taunt.

_Can't keep your mouth shut, Ratliff, might as well let me shove something in it._

"Boyfriend," Adam repeats, cutting through the buzz in Tommy's head, and holding out a hand.

Swallowing down the old hurt and fear, aware that everyone's watching him, Tommy steps away from Leo and takes Adam's hand. He's pulled against Adam, held there, warm and safe.

There was a promise, Tommy thinks, on that card, and as he kisses Adam, he knows he'll do his best to keep it forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of this arc of Promises in Purple Ink. There may be more stories to tell in this 'verse, but this one is told.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who went along with me on this weekly ride. I wasn't sure what would happen, back in October 2012 when I got this crazy idea to write a story through glam100 prompts. It turned into one of the stories of my heart. 
> 
> And, somehow, it seems appropriate to post the final installment of this serial fic on my birthday, as a gift from me to you.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> ♥  
> 


	23. Another Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No more tours," Tommy moans, as he flops onto the couch and presses his forehead against Leo's shoulder. "I don't give a shit what I've got to do. Shave my head. Dress like a real boy. Whatever it takes. I just can't do it again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #114: Tour. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.
> 
> For some reason, this week's prompt took me right back to this 'verse. So, here's a brief glimpse into Adam and Tommy's lives a little bit after Promises in Purple Ink ended.

"No more tours," Tommy moans, as he flops onto the couch and presses his forehead against Leo's shoulder. "I don't give a shit what I've got to do. Shave my head. Dress like a real boy. Whatever it takes. I just can't do it again."

Leo pats his head. "Aw, poor widdle baby. All the fame and fortune too much for you?"

Without moving his head, Tommy raises one hand and flips her off. Then he lets his arm fall heavily enough against her thigh to make an audible thump.

Snickering, she strokes his disheveled hair. "Talk to Aunty Leo."

.o0O0o.

"Oh fuck off. You have no idea what it's like, having to stand there and watch everyone suck up to Adam."

"It wasn't that bad." The couch bounces as Adam sits down. 

"Was too that bad."

"Actually that last one was even worse than all the rest." Leila's voice comes from across the room. 

Tommy squeezes his eyes shut. No offense to Adam or Leila, but Tommy really wishes they'd gone home to Adam's condo instead of coming upstairs with him. He can't fucking believe that his car had picked today of all days to die. So totally his luck.

.o0O0o.

He's about to bitch about it when Adam runs a hand down his back.

Shaking his head, Tommy moves closer to Leo. 

"Aw, baby," Adam says.

He sounds almost like he's purring, and Tommy, fuck his life, can already feel himself starting to give in. 

"Come on." Adam curls his hand around the nape of Tommy's neck, sending goosebumps shivering down Tommy's spine. "You know I'll make it better."

"Now there's a promise you shouldn't resist." Snickering, Leo raps Tommy's head with her knuckles.

"You know it, girl." Adam's replying to Leo, but he breathes the words against Tommy's ear.

.o0O0o.

_Fucking asshole_. Tommy shifts positions and jabs an elbow into Adam's gut.

Adam coughs, then rasps out, "Fuck. Don't do that."

"So promise me no more tours." Tommy cringes when he hears the whining edge to his voice, but that doesn't stop him from begging, "Please if you love me. If you ever loved me."

"You know I do." Adam slides his hand along Tommy's arm and links their fingers. "Just think of what it'll be like when it's all over. When we're stumbling through the door home and..."

"Aaaaaand that's my cue to find another seat." 

"Traitor," Tommy mutters.

.o0O0o.

Leo shoves Tommy away from her. It's meant to be playful. Only Adam has started to pull away, giving Leo room to move, and Tommy was apparently using both of them for balance.

He flails an arm out as he slips off the couch, trying to stop himself from slamming into his and Leo's coffee table with its millions of sharp edges. 

But Adam catches him, leaving him hanging in mid-air. Leo, the bitch, is laughing her ass off at him.

Tommy's scrambling back up onto the couch, drawing breath to drill Leo a new one, when Leila's phone rings.

.o0O0o.

Tommy's heart trips a beat, and he tightens his grip on Adam's hand. Adam slides an arm around him and brings him closer. Leo stops laughing and sits back down.

Leila says, "Hello," and holds up a hand, motioning them to be quiet.

Her one-sided conversation doesn't make any sense to Tommy. It's all schmoozing, jargon, and legal-sounding words and by the time she finally says, "Let me talk to them and get back to you," he hasn't a fucking clue if he's done with tours or not.

After she ends the call, Leila puts her phone down and smiles.

.o0O0o.

Adam asks, "And?"

"A few details to be worked out," Leila says, "but yes. The house is yours."

"Thank fuck," Tommy croaks out as he sags back against Adam. "No more fucking tours. If I never see another swanky house..."

"That's our swanky house, asshole," Adam says.

The giggle that bursts out of Tommy is all nerves, relief, and elation, because he's fucking doing this, moving in with Adam, and...

"Stop worrying." Adam presses their linked hands to his chest. "We'll be fine."

"Yeah," Tommy says. " We will." Then he leans in, kisses Adam, and makes his own promise.


End file.
